Torn
by imafuckingusername.dealwithit
Summary: For the first time since meeting him, she began to doubt. If Ed had given his life for his brother's- equivalent exchange, he said- then…then where was Alphonse? ...Ed finds himself alive after his last transmutation, in a strange place, full of creatures and half-people. But something else is amiss here, and what Ed doesn't know may just be his undoing.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Welcome all readers, loyal, new, flamers or otherwise.**

**Torn, for all intents and purposes is my hobby, of which I get no royalties or payment of any sort. All characters in this fic are property of the owners of Fullmetal Alchemist and Bleach Manga, and thus are not of my own creation.**

**Now I can only get sued for property damage, though I promise I'll keep the characters alive and as IC as I can for as long as possible.**

**Universes: The beginning of the story starts just after Ed sacrifices himself to save Al in the original FMA anime. For Bleach, the time-lines are a bit wibbly, for plot-related reasons, so the majority of the action will be after Ichigo and co. have just returned from rescuing Rukia and revealing Aizen, while Aizen himself has made a throne for himself in Heuco Mundo, but things happen before that which will be touched on, but only fully explained later on.**

**FMA Quote of the Day: "To sacrifice yourself doesn't make anyone happy!" (Ed)… For the Utter Irony of it all.**

**Bleach Quote of the Day: "I am sane. It's this world that's crazy." (Jin)**

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**Prologue**

* * *

The light from the transmutation sparked and died. The faint blue glow that remained outlined the thick sweeping lines that spoke of hope, life and unwavering determination, before they too, winked out. And now, in the wake of something so powerful it could shake the heavens- if you believe in that sort of thing- the only thing that remained of this ultimate taboo was the circle itself, slightly scorched now, and the electrified air that smelt of char and alchemy.

It was all observed by a young woman as she clutched her child to her chest. When her golden guardian had told her to leave, to flee, she hadn't. Whatever he was planning, she knew that his goal wasn't to live- it was for his brother. And so she had stayed: to watch… to explain… to comfort. He had never said so the first time they met, but it was plain as day then, and even stronger now- his unequivocal loyalty and love to his last blood relative. He would give his life for his brother. And he had… hadn't he?

For the first time since meeting him, she began to doubt. If he had given his life for his brother's- equivalent exchange, he said- then…

…then where was Alphonse?

* * *

In Medieval Japan, late 5th Century, an ancient man crash landed into Emperor Senei's court. The 22nd Emperor of Japan's throne was broken, as was the ancient man's arm. Neither broken thing fixed itself in array of red sparks, regardless of the ancient man's ravings. The Emperor was none too happy.

The ancient man spent the better half of the next decade in chains.

* * *

Fast forward fifteen centuries.

1998, Japan, or a dimension near it.

A sixteen year old stops aging, and face plants into white sands under a midnight sky.

He has no idea where he is, or what he's wearing. He wants to punch something, but figures that won't help much. He starts walking.

* * *

November 2005, Japan, somewhere between.

A boy is reborn, and is almost overwhelmed by just how _loud_ the world is to his senses.

He has no idea where he is, or why he's not wearing anything. He wants to hug his brother, but he's not here. He's determined to find him though.

* * *

Isn't strange, what just three people can do to a world?

Or maybe it's just them; it's just in their blood.

* * *

Somewhere, Aizen is feels a shiver run down his spine as he shoves the feeling of premonition away and plans his next three moves.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys. So, I know I said I wouldn't re-write, but I just looked at what I had here, and thought 'This part needs serious redecorating.'**

**…and this is what I got. What? I'm half-assed. Deal with it.**

**I'll just let you all know write now, this will not change the plot of the story. In fact, I think it might make it more fluid, if only for continuity's sake. But really, the changes are negligible, if you've already read it. If not, you're experiencing Torn 2.0, thank you for reading! **

**-IMFU.**


	2. Down the Rabbit Hole

**A/N: What's with the Alice in Wonderland reference, you ask?**

**I've no idea. **

**FMA Quote of the Day: "I want to touch you again, brother!" (Alphonse)**

**…because its strangely fitting.**

**Bleach Quote of the Day: "It's always a lot easier to let something fall apart than it is to try to hold it together." (Yumichika Ayasegawa) **

* * *

**Chapter 1: Down the Rabbit Hole**

* * *

_Alchemy: the science of understanding the structure of matter, breaking it down, before reconstructing it into something new. It must follow the natural laws of equivalent exchange. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost...yet sometimes, it's not all that equal._

* * *

White.

White halls and floor- though it didn't seem at all like a floor (was it a floor if you couldn't touch it, but rather floated in the non-existence of it all?)- were so reminiscent of those myths of heaven and heaven's gate. Was it possible some religious nutjob had come here millennia ago and had mistaken this for eternal bliss? He snorted inwardly, amused by the sheer irony of it.

Archaic doors carved with the faces of the dying creaking open ominously.

Black.

Black on black on black, broken only by the eyes of those broken souls that made up the abyss. He had seen their faces before- but where? Oh, yes. Carved into the doors of hell.

The Gate.

From the beginning he had known this was an option. He would have done it immediately- That Night, even- if not for his own selfishness. This 'sacrifice' had always been his last resort. Not because he wanted- or thought he deserved- to live. No.

He had searched for the Philosophers Stone, for a way to return Al to his body without exchanging his life so he could to see his brother's true face one more time. Such a selfish wish, but that was his nature.

So selfish.

(His fault, all of it)

But he supposed that this was the way his life worked. He was always offering everything, and then having the one thing taken from him that he was never willing to lose. He had demanded his mother, and had almost lost the last remaining family he had. He'd given an arm and a leg- quite literally- to save his brother, if only partially, and the irony of _that _was killing him. Now, he was demanding his brother for his life- which was trivial- but in exchange he would never see Al's restored form. The Gate had a sick sense of humour.

The black hands that seemed ink, smoke and steel all at once, stretched toward him, and he was hit with a wave of Déjà vu- had really been five years?- but this time he would not run, or scream, or cry. Their grip was vice like, tearing at him, pulling at him cell by cell until there would be nothing that anyone recognised as Ed. It was excruciating, hellish pain- the hands were like musicians; albeit horrible amateurs. They were stretching all of his nerves until they were taught enough that even the faintest twang brought a high-pitched keening from his mouth. But soon the rest of him would dissolve into The Gate, and he would be nothing.

He wondered where his echo was, his god-avatar who spouted magnanimous bullshit. And then promptly stopped wondering, because he _saw._

To his right, he saw a golden glow, starting out as nothing more than a speck of light, then growing as more glittering sparks congregated around it. It reminded him of the flowing, golden river of knowledge that was just beyond the black abyss of The Gate, the ultimate Truth that he had obtained in exchange for his left leg. But as it grew, it condensed and took on a humanoid shape; then hair, nose, and deep amber eyes. His breath hitched as his little brother faced him, drinking in the sight of his face, a face he had been afraid he'd never see again.

Maybe the Gate wasn't such a bitch after all.

Or maybe it was, because those amber eyes- God, he had _eyes! -_ widened in horror at the sight before him. Alphonse struggled to his feet, reaching out to him.

"Brother!"

Ed's heart stopped at the sound of his brother's voice, unencumbered by the tinny echo that came from being soul-bound to a suit of armour. Five years of searching for a way, and now, before his very eyes, he saw his goal accomplished. Smiling, Ed reached out the one hand that remained- the Gate had taken his automail arm first and touched his brothers cheek.

At any other time, the sight of so many emotions on Alphonse's face would have been funny. The joy he felt at the ability to _feel_ again, his anger at the Gate, anguish at the sight of it taking Ed. And yet, despite the confusion, and the slight clenching of his heart at the sight of his brother's distressed features, all Ed himself could feel was overwhelming joy. At this moment, he was fulfilled. It didn't matter what was waiting for him in the Gate, whether it be peace or pain (though it was probably copious amounts of the latter) because he had done what he had set out to do. And now he could go.

With the last of his strength, he pulled against the gate, until he could embrace his brother in a one-armed hug. He breathed in the scent of him, before letting go and leaning his brow against Al's. Looking into his brother's eyes once more, he smiled.

"Brother…"

"Bye Al"

Suddenly the black hands surged forward again- had they been waiting? Weird- with more fervor than before. It hurt like a bitch, but still he smiled. It was almost over now, he was almost gone. He couldn't see anymore, could only feel the tug of the hands pulling him into the Gate, and a strange warmth beside him- although he was just a soul now, and didn't really have any body to feel or have even a sense of direction, for that matter. And with that feeling of warmth and love, and quiet strength now enveloping him, he slowly sank into the abyss.

He hadn't heard the angry, hurt, determined curses that were spat from a usually well-mannered mouth as the owner of said mouth plunged after him. If he had, he would have considered cutting back on swearing in the future, whilst simultaneously screaming at the boy's recklessness and stupidity and…

Then again, big brothers are supposed to be a bad influence.

* * *

**A/N: I'm not sure just how good this chapter was. It seemed… forced. Well, it was forced, I know because I had a helluva time writing it, but is it supposed to come out ****_sounding _****like it was?**

**Ideas?**

**-IMFU.**


	3. Wonderland

**A/N: This chapter was fun to write, though I don't know whether Mayuri will be coming back in any regular capacity, which saddens me.**

**FMA Quote of the Day: "It's always a lot scarier dealing with the living. Give me a ghost to talk to any day." (Col. Roy Mustang)**

**Bleach Quote of the Day: "We stand in awe before that which cannot be seen, and we respect with every fiber that which cannot be explained." (Kuchiki Rukia)**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Wonderland**

* * *

_Shinigamis, (a.k.a. Death Gods.): the spiritual protectors of the Earth. They are responsible for safely conveying the souls of the deceased across to Soul Society, their rightful resting place. Ultimately they serve to return balance to a world ripped asunder by foul beings… Hollows that devour pure souls before they ever had a chance of crossing over… little did they know that Hollows were no longer the sole source of evil on this world…_

* * *

A consistent hum of electricity cumulated within the dark room, an almost comforting background noise for the room's occupants. It accompanied the frenzied, sporadic tapping of keys and bleating of various devices. This, the communications and statistical analysis room, lacked the gruesome specimens that floated within cryogenic cylinders; reminders of mistakes and tragic symbols of successes in science. It was the sole room that was _only_ about the monitoring of activities within Soul Society- a fact that cheered the inhabitants of the room to no end. The majority of them at least. Unfortunately, the one that mattered was not cheered; he had been interrupted from an important analysis of his most recent venture, only to be told he was _needed_, and nothing more was forthcoming. Not at all the wisest- or safest- method a messenger could take to bring home the urgency of a situation. At least, that was the case in the eyes of their psychotic leader. Truly, the chances of finding a sane scientist in this dimension were few and far between. To be working under a mad one was not a rare occurrence, and the fact that this one, at least, paid them reasonably was the least they could hope for. They liked to pretend it made up for the appalling working conditions.

"What is this?" Mayuri Kurotsuchi hissed. It was a feral noise, something that made the hair on the back of your neck rise and your pupils dilate in fear. But everyone had learnt long ago that to flinch at _that_ tone of voice was just _asking _for unendurable pain- something that the members of the Shinigami Research and Development Institute were never grateful for; well, not many people ever really were grateful for pain (unless they doubted the reality of their own existence or had something seriously wrong in their brain) but the Captain of the twelfth Division had a talent for pain that was particularly… _painful._

He turned his painted face toward the woman (_creation)_ that was always only a few steps behind him. "Nemu!"

Nemu, 'daughter' of the Captain himself, looked upon him obsequiously and cocked her head in silent question, "Captain. What is it you wish of me?"

As if her deference wasn't enough, the young woman bowed deeply. Kurotsuchi seethed nevertheless. As vice-captain, the little bitch should know exactly what he needed. Purple eyes flash upwards in brief realisation, as if his thoughts had found their way into her conscious, before her gaze returned to the floor. Nemu then clasped her hands in front of her and began to speak. "Approximately two minutes ago, at 0500, a sudden flux in spiritual energy occurred _within _the Precipice World. So far the source of this spiritual energy has not been determined, and has remained stationary. We have Rin opening the Senkaimon to initiate contact and to find the cause of the Kototsu's malfunction"

This stopped the sociopathic captain short. "What happened to the Kotostu? And why was I not informed?" everyone within vicinity tensed imperceptibly, readying themselves to flee, or witness one of his legendary (at least within the division itself; secrecy was of utmost importance) tirades. Nemu, fortunately, thought to forego his wrath before it began.

"Sir, the Kotostu is completely functional, and remains so, excepting the fact that it has not noticed the spiritual presence that all but materialised in front of it. It's continuing its normal route, sir, as if nothing is wrong…"

Kurosutchi's demeanour changed completely, "Something that is not detected by the Kototsu, eh? Interesting… and this mystery being has not been concealing his spiritual pressure? You've confirmed this?"

A short member of the division decided to chance it, "Yes, sir. All our monitors are detecting a consistently high amount of spiritual energy being released, as if the source was doing so unconsciously, or unable to control it. However, its' composition is distinctly human. It… reminds me of Kurosaki sir. We may have another intruder, and after Aizen…."

"I'll remind _you_ Akon that you are under my command, and more importantly, a scientist. As such, your _opinions_ are of no consequence. Analysis of the specimen and conclusive _results_ are what matter" He peered at the screens before continuing, "Exactly how far away is Rin from the sight of the anomaly?"

Akon consulted a transcript before speaking, "According to the report we received a minute ago Rin has been delayed slightly by the Kido corps, who prevented him from opening the gate without a Hell Butterfly. Apparently Captain Histuguya has reluctantly volunteered to guide him through, as he had business in the real world regarding Ichigo Kurosaki and his friends. Rin should be able to successfully determine the source of the spiritual pressure in the next four minutes sir, and Captain Histuguya can confirm its strength."

"So long as he doesn't think of damaging this strange specimen before I have a chance to study it… " Kurosutchi allowed, albeit grudgingly (the rest of the room's occupants breathed a collective sigh of relief), "just get it here before anyone else interferes!"

"Yes, sir!"

On that note, their eminent Captain and vice-captain departed, back to god-knows-what experiment they had previously been conducting (the majority of their subordinates had no particular desire to know).

It was quite unfortunate for the members of the 12th Division that those orders were not to be fulfilled. Unfortunate indeed that forces (the power of some meddling teenagers and one short, white-haired captain was nigh unbreakable) beyond their control saw to it that Rin lost his chance. It was a pity; they had all enjoyed living…

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**A/N: Reviews are a great source of energy to all authors. **_*nudge, nudge*_

**-IMFU**


	4. Awakened

**A/N: Look, look! A main character! Is this story finally starting? *le gasp***

**FMA Quote of the Day: "Even when our eyes are closed, there's a whole world out there that lives outside ourselves and our dreams." (Edward Elric)**

**Bleach Quote of the Day: "People are able to hold onto hope, since death is that which cannot be seen." (Kuchiki Rukia)**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Awakened**

* * *

Al woke to the sound of running footsteps. Of course 'wake' may not be the word to use. His mind was still clouded by the fugue of sleep, and despite being aware of the hard, uneven ground at his back he couldn't seem to find the strength to open his eyes. Usually it was never this hard. Being a suit of armour meant he didn't have eyelids, so really, his eyes should already be open. But he could feel his lids, warm and dark, and the faint brush of his lashes against his cheek.

Wait. Feel?

He could _feel?_

He realised then- really, it should've been obvious- that all the sensations he was receiving weren't him merely being spiritually aware of his surroundings, as he had been when bounded, but _touching_, with skin and nerves, and those little tiny hairs that were supposed to keep everything warm. And he was _cold_. Those hairs clearly weren't doing their job properly. And if he listened in the silence, which wasn't hard, he could hear the _thudthudthud_ of his heart and the _woosh_ of air in and out as his chest rose and fell.

He smiled, and he could feel the muscles in his face- he had a _face_- pulling his lips upward and he felt a rush of-

"Is that naked boy _smiling?"_

Oops. He had totally forgotten about those footsteps. And that he was naked. He sat up, making an attempt to cover up, whilst a dark blush crept up his neck toward his hairline. The man that had spoken considered him, a calculating look in his eyes. Al shivered. The man had a device in his hands, with little arms like those on a clock or compass, which were spinning rapidly. The white haired boy beside him glanced at the device and raised an eyebrow before appraising Al silently. Apparently he was surprised by Al… _apart _from the appearing suddenly, and having _no clothes_. What kind of person finds something _else_ to be surprised about in a situation like this?

Al shifted uneasily and cleared his throat, "uh… hello. Nice to meet you. I'm Alphonse. Sorry about…" he gestured awkwardly to his person, and his blush deepened, "and everything…um, could you tell me where I am?"

"Dangai, the dimension between Soul Society and the physical world. You'll have to come with us." Abrupt, final and commanding. As if they thought he'd listen just because they put authority into their voice. Clearly they had not experienced Elric stubbornness.

Al moved, subtly covering all his openings. The white haired boy noticed, and frowned. Al shrugged, "I don't know you. I shouldn't go with strangers"

The boy nodded, and his face becoming impassive once more. Then he stuck out his hand, "My name is Toshiro Hitsuguya. I am Captain of the Tenth Division in Gotei 13. You may call me Captain Hitsuguya. This man is Rin of the 12th Division and member of the Research and Development Institute." He waited for Al to shake his hand- apparently this Hitsuguya person did not care that Al needed that hand to cover himself- before continuing; "now we know each other, you can come with us willingly."

What twisted logic, Al thought. But really, he could hear the implications behind that sentence. There was no need to voice the threat of force if he was unwilling; Al could hear the tone loud and clear- it was the same one Ed used whenever he was going to be stubborn about something… which was often. In fact, there were a lot of things about this captain that reminded him of his brother. His seemingly permanent scowl, for one. And he seemed so much older than his height gave him credit for. He even stood straight and proud, as if it would give him an aura of commanding respect. Of course, in this case it was actually working- unlike Ed- but still…

And then Al had a thought. It was a thought that he and Ed had thought up whilst thinking a while ago (_shut up, _Al said to the cynical, sarcastic part of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Ed, _I've only just woken up in a new place and new body! I'm allowed to sound drug-addled). _It had been about what was beyond the Gate. Science and Astrology had already proven the existence of multiple galaxies, planets etc. And Ed and he had come to the conclusion that the Gate, being relatively powerful (_more-like freaking Godlike_ Ed-voice chimed in), probably controlled the flow of lives on all these planets. And, Al, being a romantic and a daydreamer (Ed-voice snorted here) had wondered whether there was a possibility of alternate universes, in which the same people lived. The Chaos Theory could attest to that… somewhat; and now Al had proof of other planets, so there was a possibility…

Al put on his most innocent smile, and widened his eyes, "You're a captain? You must be way smart! How'd you get in so young? Isn't there height requirements, like in the military?"

_Twitch twitch._

Al waited for the inevitable outburst, but none came. The twitching continued, the only sign that Al's words had any effect whatsoever. Maybe not so Ed-like after all. But Al felt that he could be trusted; not so much the man next to him- 'Research and Development' sang of experimental disasters, and he had no desire to repeat the Lab 5 incident, thankyouverymuch. So he stood warily, still trying to cover himself as much as possible, before Captain Hitsuguya shrugged out of his Haori (with much protesting from Rin about the integrity of the Captain's uniform) and handed it to him.

Al smiled appreciatively, "Thankyou Captain Hitsuguya" he faltered a bit, still uncertain about how trustworthy these people were, before plunging on, "did you… you didn't find anyone else down here did you?"

Hitsuguya looked at him sidelong, whilst the other man - Rin? - started fiddling with his device with more gusto. By now Al understood it somehow detected another's presence, and so he looked to Rin for an answer. After a moment, the man shook his head. He sighed dejectedly. All of his efforts at the Gate to remain by Ed's side had been wasted.

The Truth he had gained had hinted at another world, but for all he knew, there had been many more than just one beyond the Gate and Ed could be in a completely different dimension now. Or… not. He couldn't think about that. Ed was not dead. It didn't matter that he had sacrificed himself to save Al, because Al had then followed Ed into the Gate regardless… so he could not be dead. It wouldn't be equivalent. In fact, if anything, Al should be dead. The thought stopped him in his tracks. _Soul Society…_

Al blinked when he realised that Hitsuguya and Rin had stopped and were staring at him warily. He took a stuttering breath, "A-am I… dead?"

Hitsuguya tilted his head, considering it as he shot another appraising look Al's way, which looked more perverted than intended with Al being completely bare, "Possibly, although it's unusual to find a plus soul here instead of appearing in Rukongai. And usually they arrive wearing the traditional garb of Rukongai residents…" a thought suddenly occurred to him, and he narrowed his eyes at Al, looking so Ed-like Al had to stifle a smile, "Do you remember anything other than your name? Your family? Friends? Where you lived?"

Al blinked at the onslaught of questions "Yeah… I remember" _everything_ he was about to say, but stopped himself, "but it's… fuzzy. I can't—"

"Do you remember how you ended up…" he gestured to Al's now-covered figure. Al blushed, then realised that maybe the truth might not be so prudent in a situation where trust was tenuous at best. He couldn't exactly say 'oh, my brother bound my soul to a suit of armour to save my life, so when I got my body back five years later I wasn't as clothed as people tend to be'. That would _not _go down too well; especially with Mr. Research and Development over there.

"Um…"

Hitsuguya smiled slightly- only slightly, mind you; so slightly, in fact, that it was merely him thinning his lips (another Ed quality *sigh*), "Don't worry." He said, with his barely-there smile that Al supposed was reassuring in a strange, strange way, "You're definitely alive if you retain your memories. It's possible that you fell through when Ichigo Kurosaki first came through with his friends… there's no telling what kind of instability Uruhara's Spirit Exchange gate could've caused on the Dangai. You may have just been sucked in spiritually… although you would normally remain clothed regardless" the Captain raised a questioning eyebrow at Al and when he next spoke his voice was laced with wry amusement, "maybe it pulled you out of the bath? Or you could've just had a rough night… that definitely happens to Matsumoto often enough after a few shots" he grimaced, no doubt having been subject to _that_ particular experience one too many times. Al frowned.

"Do I look old enough to get wasted?" really, it was only out of curiosity… it's not like he'd seen his face recently (_five years)_ and there was no mirror lying conveniently within arms reach.

"Do I look centuries old to you? Or even old enough to be a captain? Age is relative here", it sounded like something Hitsuguya said often, a comforting mantra. Al grinned, before hiding it behind a hand after seeing the captain's scowl deepen. He was _so_ like Brother…

"Was someone else with you when you were pulled here?" Rin asked, effectively distracting Toshiro from any kind of retort. Alphonse, startled, asked him to repeat himself. Rin sighed, "Were you with someone before coming here? You asked if we found anyone else…?"

"Oh… my brother" Alphonse muttered, again sinking into his thoughts. So he was alive, and Ed… wasn't here. It was clear what had happened. But why then, was Al not back in his own world, in Amestris? And what was this 'Soul Society'… a place for the dead? Did that mean…?

"Umm… I'm sorry if you can't answer, but what happens to the souls that die? You said something about memories…?" he trailed off, leaving the question open. Hopefully, they would take his tone as mildly curious, and not see the desperation to know the fate of his brother lingering in his eyes. "It's alright if you can't…"

Though clearly beginning to get slightly irritated at the prying questions, Histuguya answered, "Its fine. The dead who are not haunted by their pasts, and who have not committed horrible sins are guided through to Soul Society by us, the Shinigami. They live in Rukongai, the area for non-shinigami residents. They have no memories of their former lives once they pass through, and live in relative harmony with the rest of the spirits."

"What happens to the others? The ones with sins?" he knew he sounded pensive, as if his fate was hinging on the answer. Then again…

"Some good souls- pluses, we call them- wander the real world for too long, or become attached to something in their past lives. They become obsessive and angry, and soon their souls become empty of everything except hate and pain. These souls become Hollows; creatures that feed off other souls in an attempt to fill that emptiness. Shinigami are responsible for vanquishing these creatures, and cleansing them of their sins so that their soul can crossover. However, those that were already full of sin before death- the murders, thieves, rapists- once vanquished, go to Hell."

"H-hell?" It wasn't a surprised or horrified squeak as one would expect. Al's tone was filled with quiet dread… and a slight note of resignation. Toshiro's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

"Yeah… people are always surprised that there's a hell… it's like they don't want to really believe" Rin really only wanted to be a part of the conversation. Toshiro rolled his eyes. They resumed their walk in silence, each pondering what had been said, Al especially. He refused to believe his brother had turned into some horrible monster, or… no. Ed was _not_ a sinner, no matter how talented he had become with self-blame. Besides, what happened with their mother had occurred in an entirely separate world. So that just left the Rukongai. As much as he had hoped for the both of them to survive, Al knew that if he had his body back, Ed had probably succeeded in sacrificing himself. And as much as he hated to admit it, being a soul in Rukongai was better than anything else Hitsuguya had told him. Of course, that meant that even if he found Ed, Al wouldn't be recognised. His heart clenched at the thought; that everything they had been through together, the knowledge that they were _brothers_ could be wiped so completely out of Ed's mind. But it would not stop Al from finding him. No matter how little he remembered, Ed was still his brother, and relationships like that didn't just crumble.

And even if they did (_which they don't, Al, you stupid head, how could I ever do that to you? _a particularly eloquent Ed-voice voiced in Al's head), well.

Al would just have to rebuild it.

* * *

**A/N: O.K., first off, I'm pointing out that I don't do extensive research on the details in this fic. If I can't find the information I'm after within five minutes on Google, I'm just going to make shit up. That said, I've no idea whether this bit about memory is fact. The first I knew about it was in one of the Bleach movies, but I'm not sure if it was exclusive only to that movie. Regardless, I'm using it, because it fits. So ner.**

**Fun Fact: Reviewing reduces your risk of terminal illness by 1% per word.**

**-IMFU.**


	5. Curtains and Sand

**A/N: What a tacky title.**

**FMA Quote of the Day: "This pain's nothing... compared to what he's given up." (Ed)**

**Bleach Quote of the Day: "Sanity? Sorry, but I don't remember having such a useless thing in the first place." (Zaraki Kenpachi)**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Of Curtains and Sand**

* * *

Ed regained his faculties slowly, as one does after most near-death experiences. His sense of touch returned first, which told Ed that sand was sifting through his fingers as he tried to lift his body with shaking arms, only to sink deeper in to the grains that ran rivulets down the dune he was laying on, making tiny avalanches to the ground. When he blinked the sand out of his lashes, he was able to take in the particularly depressing view of barren desert stretching to the horizon in both directions, broken only by the occasional skeleton of a dead tree. The sky stretched around the land like a dome, starless and flat black; not the deep blue of Amestris that made you wonder if there was an end to the night, but a solid black, like a thick blanket draped around the world- tangible to the touch. It made it seem as if the sky itself had an end, and once that end was reached, a simple tear in the fabric of the universe would render freedom.

But that was an impossible, puerile notion, something a poet would spout, and Ed (who _certainly _was not into that poetic shit, despite Al's discovery of _The Collected Poems' of Sylvia Plath _under his bed- Ed still swears he only had it because he thought it was a coded lead to the Philosopher's stone) shook the thought off, violently, as if expecting it to begin insulting his height (or lack thereof).

He was an alchemist and a scientist. He dealt with _facts_. And so far he had very little to go by to tell where he was. Some kind of desert, clearly- or a particularly endless beach or sand pit. But where, and what country? It had been dusk when he had activated the transmutation to bring Al back, and now it seemed like the dead of night. He wondered how far the Gate had thrown him, and groaned as he realised he could have been dumped anywhere in the cosmos.

Really, if there was a God, it went out of its way to think up new, inventive ways of screwing Ed over. Must be bored as fuck to stoop so low. But, no matter the reason, no power- divine or otherwise- was going to push Ed around without a fight. So long as he had breath in his lungs (and it was gratifying to know that this was still the case- he had checked) he would fight his way back to Al. Being sent here may be his payment for saving Al, but that didn't mean he was going to sit around and take it. With that in mind, he thought it might be a good idea to find out where he was… and possibly eat. Yes, that would be good.

He stood up and gave himself a once over, checking for injuries, satisfied when he found nothing but a few scrapes and bruises. And sand in his underwear. What he was _not _satisfied about- aside from the sandy underwear- was the utterly senseless clothes the Gate had decided to dump him in. The first time he had died he had woken up in his alter's body in London, but here his scars remained. So despite this being his body, which should have been clad in black leather, here he stood, feeling like he had a target on his back in this ridiculous white… _thing._ It was like wearing a curtain! Hardly any mobility whatsoever- _how_ was he expected to fight in this?

And what was with the massive sword? Sure it was bad ass, but _why_ was it here? Ed hated questions he couldn't answer; it meant having to ask someone else, and trust that they weren't lying through their teeth. And the only ones that had his complete trust were safe and sound in another world (crap, Winry was going to kill him for this). At least, he thought they were both safe. Hopefully…

He sighed. Already he was missing his baby brother.

Al.

He hoped to a God that didn't exist that Al had made it back home okay. After everything Ed had put him through, everything that had _happened_ (Nina, the homunculi, DanteHohenheimLioreArcherTheFurher…) he deserved his body back, whole and healthy, with the promise of a full life. Giving up his world for this one was the least Ed could do if it gave Al all that- he had been willing to forfeit his life for Al's happiness. But that did not mean that, now he found himself alive and in another dimension, Ed was about to just sit down and take it. He was going to fight; and he suddenly found it immensely ironic that the Gate had given him a weapon.

How would he go about getting back through the Gate? When he had first went through, and had landed in London (during a war no less; it was the Elric luck) his father had told him that world's science had developed physics over alchemy. Was it the same here? He would need to research this world's main scientific focus, which meant he needed a place to research, and resources to use. He looked around and realised that this was not a great start. Civilisation. That was what he needed; and after that, a library. Yes, that would do nicely.

Feeling much better now he had a definitive purpose in mind, he picked a random direction (because really, what else could he do, look at the stars? What stars?) and set out. After about an hour of stumbling and tripping over the too-long ends of his pants (he was not _short!)_, and ending up at the bottom of sand dunes (you'd think it was fun right? It's _not)_, Ed gave up trying to be lenient with the bits of useless fabric, and found a surprising amount of pleasure in transmuting it into something slightly more comfortable and less… curtain-ish.

He missed his leather pants.

* * *

Trudging relentlessly over miles of seemingly endless dunes of sand _should _have been exhausting to Ed. Yes, he was awesome, but even he could not possibly have navigated this infinite plane without tiring. Except that he had.

Was it possible he was even more awesome than he had first suspected?

Though possible- he was a modest kinda guy and had no inclination to measure the level of his awesomeness daily (that would just be silly, he had better things to do; like flaunt it)- it was still more than likely that being on a different planet/parallel universe (_whatever)_ had had an effect on his body. Maybe there was a slight, unnoticeable drop in the gravity in this world, and this made his own body that much lighter in comparison, allowing him to displace the atmospheric particles around him that much easier… No, that was ridiculous. It _was_ however possible that spending five years with two automail limbs had increased his stamina and muscle mass dramatically, and now that he had his original limbs back, the weight he usually carried had significantly lessened, allowing his stamina to be put to better use- like, for example, walking in a straight line for what felt like forever. But if _that_ were the case, his newly restored limbs would not be up for the job, as _they _had spent five years sitting (can limbs sit? It was a valid question) inside the Gate, and should, by rights be completely useless. In fact, he was quite surprised that they weren't atrophied, but instead as strong and resilient as his other limbs. Strange.

_Why was it all so confusing? Why can't the answer ever just be __**there**_, he thought, and similar such whiny things.

Unfortunately for Ed, he had a tendency to submerge himself within his own thoughts, and subsequently forget just how physical the world around him could get. And so, in his trance-like state, he did not notice a looming shadow in the distance growing ever closer, nor did he notice that he himself was now beneath that shadow, mere feet from the foot of a colossal wall, nor did he notice-

"- Ow! mother-" and a few choice words that would forever go down in history as the most creative swears imaginable in any universe… if only they had been witnessed. Oh, well- we'll probably have the honour of hearing them in detail once more… this _is _Ed we're speaking of.

Now, about this colossal wall…

Ed took a few steps backward to better view his new nemesis. It seemed to be attached to a very large, very white building. Possibly a castle, although it lacked the tell-tale turrets and drawbridge one would typically see- not that Edward had ever really seen a castle. In fact, the wall seemed to be a turret in and of its self. It grew out of the ground, quite literally- the sand hardened gradually until it sloped up, reaching out to the circumference of the tower. It was windowless, and had a diameter of maybe twenty feet; the summit of the tower was not a peaked cone, as is classically seen in a castle tower, instead it was flat more reminiscent of the cooling towers of a power plant than anything. It wasn't the only one either; about a dozen or so spanned out, forming a ring around a bunch of rather extraneous poles. They were of the same composition as the towers, and appeared to be supports for a long forgotten roof- or maybe one that had not been constructed yet. Talk about bad architecture.

Ed wondered how on earth- or wherever the hell he was- he had missed this. It was a mildly depressing thought. Regardless, it was only to be expected that when presented with some sort of civilisation, a man walking for gods knew how long would only be grateful. And so, with all the gusto of a man finding an oasis in a desert- not that far off the mark in Ed's view- he ran toward the largely useless phallic symbols and found himself in the midst of… creatures. There was a distinct questioning undertone when Ed looked at the beings and thought 'creatures', as they seemed almost ethereal in nature. They… they reminded him of the homunculi. But they weren't attempting to kill hime or forcing him to create stones out of human souls, so he could deal for now.

A thought idled languidly across his conscious. He would need a place to stay, food to eat, a library. He wondered if this world had any decent real estate agents- not that he had any money to pay them with anyway (he would probably just alchemise some gold later; everyone loves gold). Or another alternative: rely on the hospitality of these creatures (could they talk? They certainly looked intelligent) to put him up for a few days (or weeks) whilst he found his feet in this weird place. Looking at the vaguely curious stares, and only slightly aggressive stances of the creatures, he felt slightly hopeful.

That was, of course, only the case until one such creature, which took the form of a pale tiger, sleek and almost porcelain in appearance, decided to speak out.

"Who the hell are you?" the voice was guttural, deep and strangely fitting for a talking animal-thing. Unfortunately, the reassurance that he could reason with these creatures was undercut by the rather distinctive fangs protruding from a saliva-slick mouth; Edward doubted that expression was any attempt at a welcoming smile. He slowly shifted into a defensive stance, making them tense further. Damn. Not realtors then.

The suddenness of the tiger's attack knocked Edward down. Now his face was exactly an arm's distance away from hot, wet breath and needle-sharp fangs. He attempted to reassess the situation for any possible escapes, but it was hard to think about anything other than _fangs and teeth and oh fuck_. All Edward was sure of was that his hope for a warm bed that night was dwindling rather quickly. Unless this was their culture's way of saying hello; again Ed doubted that. They were certainly not as ethereal (or hospitable) as he had first thought…

* * *

**A/N:** **first off, I'd just like you guys to know I really appreciate the reviews you've given me, regardless of number. They were exactly what I needed. So thankyou.**

**Regarding this chapter, I am very aware Ed seems to have as large an ego as Mustang. But this is purposeful. I've noticed in the anime (particularly the 1****st**** one) that Ed always acts like a dick when he's raring for a fight (like with Mustang etc.) and right now, what with all the mixed up feelings for Al, the Gate, being in another world (should I go on?) he's rather tense. Fortunately that has been fixed by a widdle fanged beastie. So when he next appears in this story, he will be feeling much more himself… kinda XD**

**And so, now this has been cleared up, the next chapter will be ****To Search for a Soul, ****from Al's POV. Should be out within the next week or so, depending. **

**Thanx, **

**-IMFU**


	6. To Search for a Soul

**A/N: Big thanx to Nekogami Bastet, Ktisunelover300, Akaluan and silversamjokgo for their support… sorry, but I was just too tired to PM everyone individually.**

**FMA Quote of the Day: "The more steps we take forward, the longer we see the path is ahead." (Shou Tucker)**

**Bleach Quote of the Day: "People are able to hold onto hope, since death is that which cannot be seen." (Kuchiki Rukia)**

* * *

**Chapter 5: To Search for a Soul**

* * *

_16 Sept. 2002, Karakura Town, Japan, Earth_

_After dropping me at a store, with a shop owner named Kisuke who didn't seem to be a shop keeper at all, Hitsuguya flew the coop. The shop owner acted rather happy, but I could tell he was looking at me a little too closely. I began to wonder whether they knew of my origin, and that was why they were suspicious of me. I would've asked, had I not met with a group of teenagers who were rather interested to know who I was. _

_They asked me my story, and I decided I would just go with the flow. I told them my name was Alphonse Rockbell. I claimed that I had been showering in my dorms in an orphanage, when I had been pulled into the… whatever it was. When asked which orphanage, I pretended partial memory loss- or possibly just a horrible memory to begin with. Only Ishida seemed to suspect my story was a lie, though he said nothing of it (I'll have to watch out for him). Regardless, my 'sob' story (there were certainly no tears, I assure you) elicited worried responses all round and lead to Kisuke Urahara offering his roof (he's another one I'll need to be wary of)._

_In return for my story, they gave me comprehensive information about soul society and how it worked, under the assumption that I was only as ignorant as the rest of their world (most of the populace is unaware of the existence of soul society). As it turns out their suspicion was warranted, as they were on the verge of conflict; the calm before the storm, per se._

_I found that the humans of this world were much less intimidating than their shinigami counterparts. Ishida is still rather stoic, but I suspect that's just him; Ichigo is his rival so to speak, always trying to get him to be more laid back, but fighting with him nonetheless (it reminds me of Ed and Mustang, a little). After the first day (and after I was dressed) they were surprisingly accepting of me; particularly Orihime, who I knew from the start was a kindred spirit. _

_I truly am grateful for their hospitality. Those first few days were a jumble of conversation and questions, and it was hard to focus on anything much. During that time, I had almost convinced myself that Ed would just drop in, take control of everything (as he does), and then we would go home. Afterwards, when I had realised that Ed probably didn't even know I was _here,_ I started to research. It's been a while now, and they have taken me under their wing, and I feel almost like a part of a haphazard, dysfunctional family; if only Brother were here…_

* * *

**Present Day, Karakura Library, Karakura Town**

His eye was throbbing. The left one. It felt as if something had been trapped inside; something alive and writhing and gouging from the inside out. Goddamn headache was beating its happy staccato of drums across his mind in an unsteady rhythm. The universe was mocking him; he just knew it. In a fit of uncharacteristic irritation, he slammed the book back onto the table, and clutched his head in his hands, fisting his unkempt hair. Orihime, the only one patient and kind enough to continue to help him out on a regular basis after so long, looked up from the notes she was taking from _The Darkest Alchemy, _a book that was more fiction and mythology than any hard fact. He snorted; he'd begun thinking he had more chance at finding a way home with the contents of that book alone than of finding his brother at this point. He had thought that if his brother were alive, he would be searching for a way back, and so if Alphonse were to search as well, they would no doubt cross paths at some point. Clearly he had been wrong on both accounts; either his brother was not searching… or he had never been in this world to begin with.

It had been six months. _Six months._ Surely some hint of his brother would have turned up by now? What if… he already left? If he had already found a way home, and gone, thinking that Alphonse was back in Amestris, when actually Ed had _left_ and _gone, _and now he would be _alone?_ Oh gods, is that what had happened? Had he been left here?

A frustrated sound tore from his throat, almost a growl, but more of a whimper than anything. He began tapping his foot; something, anything to focus on to take him away from the ecliptic headache that was coming on and the thought that-

_Snap._

He almost flinched, almost ran for cover, before he remembered Mustang was on another world and it wasn't his ignition gloves erupting in flames, but Orihime merely closing her tome in a decisive manner. Her gaze was soft and understanding, which only served to irk him more; it was not as if she was aware how very difficult traversing worlds for lost siblings really was. She wasn't even aware he was from another world. Of course, everyone knew he wasn't really looking for the orphanage (seriously, he was reading _The Darkest Alchemy, _for Pete's sake) but they didn't mention it. After an encounter with Ishida, who had been asking rather strange questions about his home life ('do you like the orphanage?', 'how often did you go out?', 'is it difficult?') he had come to the conclusion that they thought he was being abused, and now he was avoiding going back by claiming 'no memory'. He let them keep believing that even when it really didn't help him get closer to his brother. If he told them the truth, would they help more or condemn him for being delusional?

He started tapping his foot again.

Orihime's eyes softened, "Just give it time, Alphonse"

And it was Alphonse, because only the closest of people were allowed to call him Al, and _these_ people weren't even real, couldn't be real because Ed wasn't here and this had to be a _dream_ or some sick _nightmare_ he just had to _get out- _and then Orihime put her hand over his and his lies came crashing down as he realised just how very real the entire situation was.

He blamed it on the Elric luck.

"Fuck." It was the first time he swore since he had come to live with Orihime, who had a gentle temper much the same as his had been months ago (_six months)_, but now he was feeling hopeless and hollow and he just wanted to hear something that reminded him of his brother, so of course he would swear because, because-

"I can't remember" he whispered. And it was true. Something that had started out as a flat-out lie to stop the prying questions had morphed into something sickeningly truthful. He was forgetting. The lilt of Ed's voice, the exact golden hue of his eyes, and he sounded like a fucking love struck schoolgirl, but _damnit_ Ed was his _brother_ and his only link home and _he couldn't remember_ and for fuck's sake, _where was he?_

Orihime squeezed his hand, and he was once again reminded to breathe. He looked up and shot her a small, but grateful smile. She returned it with interest, and for one fleeting moment, everything was alright. Alphonse (not _Al, _not until everything was okay) took a steadying breath and slowly reopened his book. Who knows, everything he needed might lie between the pages of _Histories of Mythoi, Sciencia and Forgotten Arts._

He snorted, but nevertheless continued his largely futile perusal of the volume.

_…Science of Alchemie is said to have been founded during the late 5__th__ scholars of the time researched the means of changing lead to gold at its most basic chemical composition. One such philosopher became renowned in his study of alchemy, nearly as notable as the founder of the philosophy, Nicholas Flamel. It is said that in 1520, Parcelsus (born 11.11.1493—24.09.1541 as Philippus Aureolus Theophrastus Bombastus von Hohenheim—_

Alphonse's eyes froze over the words, refusing to process what he had just read. Surely not. His father could not possibly have fallen into this world, much less wound up in an entirely different century. Right? Even if he had, there was still the question of _how_. Was he still alive? Could Alphonse possible reach him with alchemy? _Did he know where Ed was?_

The truth of the matter was that Alphonse had never even considered the possibility of time being a mitigating factor in his search for his brother. Nine centuries was a massive time gap to traverse, and his stomach bottomed out as he realised that Ed really could be anywhere in time _or_ space. At this point, it would just be easier to find a way home, and wait for Ed there. Alphonse had entertained the thought before, but never had he been surer of it as he had now. Go home, wait and hope Ed would come back. That was the best plan of attack he had in this situation. It shamed him; he felt like he was giving up. Ed would never have done that; he would keep looking, even if it killed him- _he _would never have abandoned his brother. Before he could drown himself with that line of thought, he was brought out of his musings by Orihime's gentle voice.

"—fresh look", unfortunate that he had tuned in mid-sentence.

"Sorry?" 'fresh look'? Were they going shopping or something? Ugh.

Orihime smiled at his clueless look, "I said you should take a break. I'm sure that after you relax and come back to it later, you'll see something you've missed or find a way to attack this differently." She cast him a worried look, "you haven't been sleeping lately, Alphonse. Everyone can see it. You're overworking yourself"

For a moment, Alphonse was struck dumb by how familiar her words sounded. Usually however, they'd be coming from his own mouth, in what had once been dubbed the 'mother tone' (what? He worried) and be directed at Ed. The thought made him laugh.

"You're right" and she was. He was still himself enough to realise that he had been too focused on finding Ed that he hadn't taken stock of any of the larger picture. He sighed deeply, "Maybe I could hang with you guys tomorrow… where did you say you were going again?"

Orihime blinked twice, surprised by the sudden change. Feeling slightly victorious, she smiled, "we're going to _school _Alphonse."

He grimaced.

* * *

**A/N: Well, that was strange. And Alphonse was crazily out of character. Bear in mind that in the anime movie, Al started emulating Ed, right down to the clothing. I just thought that kind of obsession would come out in other ways as well… meh.**

**Tell me what you think of it. **

**-IMFU.**


	7. To Steal a Soul

**A/N: Dear god, I'm a chronic procrastinator. I even procrastinate on my procrastinating.**

**FMA Quote of the Day: **

**Edward Elric: [to Magwar, in response to imposter Elric brothers] I told ya before, let's take care of those kids first. It's been a while since I've killed anyone. I kinda miss it.  
[his eye turns to Magwar with a sick, scary grin]  
Edward Elric: You wanna watch?**

**Bleach Quote of the Day: "It's so very difficult for me to hold back and step on an ant without crushing it." (Aizen Sosuke)**

* * *

**Chapter 6: To Steal a Soul**

* * *

**_1_****_st_****_ Division, Quarters of Captain Yammammato_**

_"Excuse me sir! I have an urgent message form 12__th__ Division. They've detected Arrancar activity in the East part of Karakura Town. There are three of them, and judging from power and stability of their spiritual pressure… it is safe to assume that two are complete Arrancar…"_

_"And what of the third?"_

_"…Its' energy keeps fluctuating. It appears to be a pattern, but whenever we begin to see its rhythm, its rate changes. We… we're not sure what it is sir."_

_"…_ Get Kisuke and Kurotsuchi here."

* * *

**Karakura Town**

They had been walking towards Karakura High School, which was, admittedly the largest complex in the town; larger than their library anyway. Regardless, Alphonse had never even entertained the thought that he'd be going back to school one day; the closest thing he had got to that was the idea that he could maybe get a full scholarship, and start a career path in theoretical alchemy in Central's University. Maybe put all his findings into his dissertation. But here he was, going to _high school_ in a _uniform_ and carrying junior level textbooks (they had enrolled him into ninth grade; he was less than pleased).

It was rather irksome to him that he was now much shorter than he had been as a seven foot suit of armour. Yes, it was to be expected, but 4'5"… _really?_ He felt suddenly very sorry for all the times he had implied Ed was short (they were brother's, it was his duty). Not because he could now empathise with his elder brother, but because when they finally reunited (and they _would) _he would never hear the end of it. Ah, the perks of sibling rivalry. He couldn't wait. He really couldn't wait for Ed to be found before going home, and that brought forth a whole web of questions lying unanswered in the box in his mind that he'd categorized 'to think about later/never'.

Fortunately, he became distracted from this train of thought. Not so fortunate was the cause of the distraction. There was a blast of wind, thick with the tang of electricity, as if it were made of pure energy. As it passed, he noticed the weighted feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was like the feeling you get just before you vomit. Your stomach bottoms out, falls to yours toes and then, like a bungee cord, springs up in a backward flip, as its contents is ejected from your oesophagus and, more than likely, onto a friend's new shoes. Except now, there was no 'eject' button, and you just got the feeling someone had stolen all your organs. Not fun, to say the least, but neither was having a middle-aged man collapse on top of you.

Alphonse attempted to hold the man that had collapsed on top of him in the middle of the walkway, but was soon found lying beneath the man with a mouth full of dark hair. Damn this man was _heavy._ He pushed the man off, checking his breathing which was thankfully steady. The man was in his late twenties, healthy, and the day wasn't particularly hot, so the only reason he may have collapsed was from that strange windstorm; but how?

"Hey, are you alright sir?"

He didn't move. His two escorts were a few feet ahead, apparently on something in the sky.

"Wait, Inoue, Chad! I need help, he's—"

But they didn't seem to be listening. Chad turned, looking down the road with a stricken expression. Orihime's lip trembled, "This… this spiritual pressure is…"

"Oi! _Help me!", _Seriously, was where the mystery wind came from more important to them than a stranger's life? Inoue looked around at him.

"W..wait, Chad, there's someone"

Chad turned, but barely glanced at the man who was lying _on the ground_ possibly having some sort of fit or _dying_.

"It's no use Inuoe. He's dead."

He tried to calm his breathing, calm himself before he did something he'd regret. Being able to sense touch for the first time in years wasn't the only thing he had gained from his new body. As merely a soul, only the deepest of emotions could have affected him, but now his body reacted to every emotion with a startling intensity, as if trying to make up for being subdues for five years. He also suspected that supressed hormones and the sudden hit of puberty had something to do with it as well. Or else he was just losing his mind slowly. So, instead of hitting Chad like he wanted to, he breathed, and told himself that being reasonable was the better option, because clearly he was the only one using his brain and seeing the truth _unlike some annoying—_

Breath. In. Out.

Okay.

"Chad" He said slowly, "You've barely looked at him, so you wouldn't know that he's _breathing_"

"Can't you see it Inuoe?" He didn't appear to be listening.

"What…?" the question was full of fear, apprehension. But not for the collapsed man behind her.

He was being ignored.

"Up in the sky. The spirits within the vicinity are being… pulled out of their bodies. Once that happens, there's no going back"

_Still_ being ignored_. _Wait… spirits?

"Inoue, Al, when we get there, if there are any survivors… take them and run."

"Chad…"

"There are survivors right here. We can still save them." The determined, fierce tone of his voice must have finally gotten their attention.

"What are you talking about? Their souls—" But Chad was cut-off

"—aren't completely gone." Alphonse finished, "He's breathing, so his body is still alive at least. That means there's still a chance, so long as we can reverse whatever happened. The souls will find their way back into the bodies that they belong to. And so long as there's no trauma from the experience, their minds will remain intact"

"So you're saying their mind and body are alive, and their soul has just been removed?"

"Yes" And Alphonse refused to entertain the thought that that statement was also an apt description for any Homonculus; soulless, cunning creatures that left blood in their wake. He reminded himself that this situation was very different. First of all, these people hadn't been created by alchemy. Secondly, they did still have souls, but they had merely… vacated their bodies. Temporarily.

"W-what?" Orihime was, understandably, shocked. Al had not hinted at any knowledge of the spiritual world, and they had all been under the impression that his trip in the Dangai was his first encounter with this sort of thing.

For this reason, Chad was, understandably, suspicious. "How do you know all this?"

Alphonse contemplated several different lies, before resting on a twisted half-truth, "I've had experience with… souls. It's… kind of why I'm an orphan. My mother died in a… _similar_ situation. My brother and I dedicated ourselves to finding a way of fixing it; it took five years… of course, by then it was too late for her." His eyes lost their faraway look as they glared up at Chad, a silent challenge, "But so long as we find the cause of all of… _this, _I can easily reverse it. If we move _now_."

They still seemed hesitant. Alphonse was beginning to lose his patience. These people hadn't even checked for vitals when the man had collapsed, had merely thought that because their spiritual powers had told them so, the man was dead. Of all the… he forced himself to take a calming breath as he looked at them steadily, "even if this doesn't work, there's still a chance. Are you not willing to at least _try?" _a pause, where no reply or action was given, "goddamn it, we're wasting _time_. Just do your voodoo-sensing shit and let's get out of here!"

They scurried (though 'scurried' seemed a rather strange verb when describing Chad's movements) away, Alphonse following at their heels.

_Geez, _this _is what it takes to get them into action? How the hell do they live with themselves? _

And his Ed-voice mocked his anger management all the way to their destination.

* * *

**Meanwhile, about a mile east…**

The energy swept away from its epicentre, outward, for miles, disturbing more than just dust, as they knew it would. Now, it would only be a matter of time before the one they were looking for came to them. So they merely climbed out of the crater they had created during their arrival to wait.

There was the crunch of footsteps on rubble and gravel and the trickle of pebbles on stone as they fell into the crater that had appeared. There was a rustle of fabric accompanied with each footstep, one pair sounding heavier than the others', and another as silent as the grave. Then the footsteps stopped, and a voice replaced them, filling the momentary silence.

"Ugh, I came here a few times with the mask as a hollow, but the human world is more boring than I remember. The spiritual pressure here is so thin I think I'm going to suffocate."

"Stop whining. I said that I'd be fine solo, but you insisted on coming along Yami."

"Yes, sorry or whatever."

The third one, who had yet to say anything on the matter, merely snorted quietly as he watched the dust settle, and the horde of spectators emerge.

"Was it a meteor?"

"I don't see anything."

"Then what the heck fell down…?"

"Is it safe to go closer?" There was an inaudible sigh. _Humans._ _They were all the same._

There was an almost imperceptible shifting of feet._ They're just standing, staring. An explosion occurred… why aren't they running?_

A booming voice, "What's with these guys? Fuck, they're annoying. Can we eat? All this staring is making me hungry"

Then a sickening sound, like a vacuum drawing in water, though the feeling that accompanied it was more reminiscent of an animal lapping at blood. Wind whistled in the ear and wet coughs and strangled cries resonated around them as the bystanders (not here for them, they're_ innocent, _so _why _is this happening?) collapsed. A ragged sigh, like it was holding back a sob, and then all was calm.

Only three souls, it seemed, remained, though the presence of their hearts was certainly under question.

_Why hadn't they run? _The thought was vague and dazed, though hidden beneath a blank, uncaring face and eyes, which sparked momentarily in morbid amusement. _Right. Curiosity killed the cat._

_ "Yuuuck" _a contemptuous sound, something that was so condescending and disgusted it was just _begging_ for a fist in the face. But restraint was necessary. _It was useless to cry over spilt milk._

The stray thought was more calming than it ought to have been.

"Of course. How can such weak spirits taste good?"

"It's not my fault if they were looking at me funny"

All… of _that_ had happened because they had stared? Rage was there, quickly repressed; only ever expressed through the flash in his eyes and a low voice pushed past teeth and lips pulled down in a frown.

"The humans can't see us dumbass. You… that wasn't necessary"

"…" an inquisitive look from the more civil one, the observer, which went pointedly ignored. Another sigh, this time tired, as if sensing the beginning of an old argument.

"Right. Whatever. Do what you want. I'm outta here; I'll find my own way back"

Silence for a beat, broken by the shifting of feet and tilting of heads as they caught a streak of gold in the distance, neither commenting on the speed of the disappearance.

"…So what now? How many are we here to kill?"

"Just one; you can leave the others alone"

"We have to find a single bug in this nest of thousands?"

"I heard that presently in the human world, there are at most three with noticeable strength… the rest are utter trash. It shouldn't be difficult to spot him."

Unfortunately, they were interrupted before they could continue. More rustling of cloth, this time further away, among the group of hunched forms that had collapsed seemingly of their own accord before. There was a gasping breath, groans, and desperate panting, from the same source. Two pairs of eyes glanced in her direction, then widened fractionally, as if their surprise was only trivial. One spoke.

"Seems we have a survivor"

The mop of dark hair lifted, held by shaking arms as fiery eyes (dulled now, she was so _tired_) rested upon two chilling figures, and then fell to the unmoving forms that surrounded her. She cringed backward,

_What happened here… why is everyone… are they dead?! What the hell are these things?_

"Hmmm… she's strong enough to still be alive after I've fed on her. Is she it Uluqiorra?"

A condescending shake of the head was his reply, "Look carefully fool. Her spirit is on the verge of collapsing just from being close to you. She's trash"

"Tsk, a coincidence then… how boring."

She tried to move as he raised his fist, but the weight (a lurching, she was going to be _sick_) remained over her, and refused to let her move.

_I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die._

And there was a flash of muted gold, like a light bronze, and a darker blur, and suddenly the falling fist was stopped.

"…Who the hell are you?"

"New in town."

And the last thought that clouded Tatsuki's mind before darkness clouded her vision was that she would never live it down if she was saved by a stranger (short, shorter than her) that was truly named something so ridiculous…

* * *

Of course, it hadn't been Alphonse that had stopped the finger (seriously, how strong could one finger be? Why was everything in this world so utterly stupid?), but Chad. He had only answered to draw attention away from the recuperating Chad, who had barely managed to stop himself from collapsing after blocking that attack. Apparently the strength of fingers was definitely not something to scoff at (Alphonse conceded that it was a rather large finger). The body attached to the finger was equally impressive, and Alphonse had had experience as a giant suit of armour, so that was saying something. The man was twelve feet tall, and at least half as wide. Alphonse swallowed thickly at the sight of the man's face, covered as it was in the jawbone of what seemed to be an animal. His nose crinkled in disgust. The giant blinked down at him (Chad lay forgotten in light of this new bug) then turned to the figure beside him.

"Uluqiorra…?" seemingly coming out of deep thought, the other man's piercing gaze swept over Alphonse. He too was dressed in white, and the style reminded him vaguely of Amestrian military uniforms, albeit more… dress-like. The tattoos (makeup? Surely not…) on his face made it seem as though he was perpetually crying.

All in all, the guy was depressing.

"Yami. If you invested your time a little in observation and reasoning skills, it would be obvious to you that he is trash too. And he'd be just as disgusting as those other souls you ate." If the man hadn't been so stoic about it all, Alphonse could almost imagine him examining his nails in a careless manner.

Wait. _Souls..? _This _is the guy?_

The tall guy grinned and lifted his fist once more. Alphonse tensed, not knowing exactly _what _he was going to do at this point. He couldn't really dodge on the off chance the attack would hit the people behind him. And he had no idea how to transform his arm into a giant red-and-white shield, as Chad had done, (there is something seriously _wrong_ with this place) so he was kind of at a loss at the moment. And that hand was still coming at him.

"No..! Alphonse!"

Orihime's voice. Orihime's silhouette in front of him, her hands stretched out before her, in a comical imitation of a traffic controller's 'stop!' gesture. They both blinked at her, and once again the (freakishly) taller one turned to the shorter, depressingly dull one.

"Uluqiorra… is this girl trash too?"

"…yeah. Trash."

Exactly what were they basing this on? The colour of their hair? I get flung from one racially separatist planet to another, Alphonse thought. Geez, he never got cut a little slack did he? But maybe he did, because right at that point, they were both distracted; one with the task of crushing the girl in front of him, and the other momentarily looking away with disinterest.

Now was his chance.

_Clap._

Skirting around a rather angry looking Orihime, he rushed under the impending thrust of an enormous arm and placed his hands as close to the giant-man's chest as he could (large holes in people's stomach's a rather hindering, however). Feeling the transmutation coursing through him, the blue light around him, at his fingertips, he almost laughed. When he had first come he had been worried that alchemy didn't work in this world, what with its physics and vast technological advances. He had been too afraid of it not working, to try. But now…

The blue light enveloping him and the big man (homunculus? He certainly fit the bill) he was transmuting had begun turning pale white, then blue, then white again. _The souls_, he reasoned. He had seen them being pulled out of the townspeople beforehand, and now they were being pulled from the thing that had taken them in the first place. And the creature (murderer) had fallen to its knees, and was shivering rather violently, and Alphonse was suddenly struck by the thought that he and Ed had been rather stupid in their previous encounters with homunculus in their home world, because why couldn't they have just _unmade _them, like he was doing now?

And then, ironically, he was struck. By a sword. It wasn't something he appreciated.

Blood spurted from his chest as Uluqiorra stood over him, sword raised, glinting red and silver-white in the sun, and a strange expression on his face. _Huh, _Alphonse thought dully, _I was under the impression he hadn't any muscles to make that kind of face …_

"Alphonse!" the strangled cry penetrated Alphonse's foggy mind, and he was reminded that there was something rather important he was supposed to be doing.

"Alphonse!" It was nothing more than a broken sob now.

Hmmm… what was it? Surely if he slept on it he'd remember…

"Al! Get up! Please…"

Oh right. That was it. He had to get up.

And he tried. He really did. He struggled onto his elbows, put all his effort into sitting up, or clapping or _something_ before he succumbed to his tiring mind.

_Well, at least I remembered…_

And darkness claimed him.

* * *

**A/N: SOMETHING HAPPENED! It's like, I actually wrote something worthwhile.**

**Now stuff is worth reviewing on!**

**-IMFU.**


	8. Books and Burned Bridges

**A/N: So… yeah, I can't be bothered sayin' much.**

**FMA Quote of the Day:**

**Ed: I said get down on the ground!  
Russell: What? So we can see eye to eye?**

**Bleach Quote of the Day: "Worrying about a warrior's life on the battlefield is only an insult." (Abarai Renji)**

* * *

**Chapter 7: Books and Burned Bridges**

* * *

**20 minutes before…**

Across town, in a small, dimly lit alcove between the shelves of a half-forgotten, dusty library, a figure stood staring blankly at the disarray before him. Books were strewn across the table in a sort of ordered chaos. A pen lay between the pages of an open one, however, no notes were in sight; someone had either been slovenly and left the books the way they were because they could not be bothered to put them back, or they had left them there with the intention of returning to their research.

Or there was the unlikely chance that some dumbass teenagers had just decided to wreak havoc upon the librarian, he thought hopefully.

Really, the thought that someone other than him was researching the art of alchemy was a disturbing thought. It made his head throb and his stomach twist in knots, knowing that the accounts in some of these books on human transmutation were frighteningly accurate, even going insofar as to depict the Gate in some cases. If anyone who knew what they were looking for came across these, he didn't want to think on what would happen.

_There was his mother, crippled and twisted with her organs lying outside of her, breathing ragged, in pain, _dying.

_"Ed…ward"_

_Calling him in a broken voice with a broken body, and a searing pain just below his knee, where his leg _should _have been… and where was Alphonse, where was his brother, and what has happened to his leg?_

All this time, and still the memory was as vivid as ever. They say time heals all wounds, but they are wrong. Even more wrong is the fact that everyone thought he was strong and vibrant and so _determinedly unselfish_. Ha, what a joke. The truth was that much harsher.

He couldn't stand to be alone.

When his mother died, the only thought in his mind was that he couldn't see how he was supposed to go on without her. And then, in that dark basement, surround by red and the rasping gasps of his dying creation, all he was thinking then was that _he was the only one left._ Thoughts of how his brother didn't deserve to die, how it was _his entire fault, _all that guilt; that would come later. But at that moment, he would've given anything to fight the crushing loneliness he'd felt at that moment.

He hadn't cared what his brother ended up as, so long as he was _there._

And now he wasn't.

Those desperate thoughts still disgusted him, because if he had been stronger, less _selfish_ he knew the he and Al would have moved passed their mother's death eventually, and would have grown up without all this pain.

They would have still been together.

So, understandably, when he comes across a hidden alcove, in a dusty library that is filled with open books and well-thumbed pages that speak of alchemy, he begins to worry. In a world where physics and technology are the main focus for scientists, he wonders what kind of desperation would drive someone to an archaic and almost dead philosophy; something that was not even a valid science anymore. Who would stoop to something people know as a forgotten art, a dark magic? But he doesn't wonder, not really, because he knows exactly how desperate a person can get, for he himself has experienced the biting anxiety of having nothing left to lose. In fact, he's still experiencing it, although to a lesser extent; time had worn away the sharp edges of his emotions into a faint aching, and his lack of opportunities had prevented any rash decisions or sacrifices on his part. The voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Al, telling him he would never be forgiven if he came back dead of less one more limb, was the only thing that had kept him alive so far. Of that, he was fairly certain.

But back to the matter at hand.

What to do with this? Finding the culprit and beating some sense into them sounded like a good idea, but how? And how well would that go down with Aizen and his crew? He wasn't stupid. Far from it. They would be on to him like ravenous dogs; which in some ways, they were. If he began frequenting a human library to 'sort out' some wayward alchemist, his cover would be blown to bits. And then where would he be? Most of the human population couldn't _see_ him, whilst the rest would either be terrified (he'd run into a man on the streets who'd taken one look at him and screamed 'ghost!') or would want to hunt him down and 'cleanse' his hollow soul. Those Shinigami types were a little delusional, in Ed's opinion, and their actions reminded him of a religious purge, like in Liore. And ultimately, that meant he had very little options in the way of discouraging this unknown researcher without giving up a place to sleep.

However, this stranger couldn't possibly go down the path of self-destruction if he had nothing to research with… right? But to take or destroy all of it would be too suspicious. So long as he took only those with relevant information, then they would just assume someone with a passing interest had borrowed the books. It would at least delay their research until he had a chance to return.

Skimming through the pages of each book turned out to be a horrible mistake. Mainly because the first one he read was the one that had been lying open, the one that had clearly been the last read.

_Alchemie… lost art… Philosopher… Parcelsus… Hohenheim—_

And here his breathing stopped. With shaking hands, he gripped the book tighter and re-read the paragraph.

…_born 11.11.1493—24.09.1541 as Philippus Aureolus Theophrastus Bombastus von Hohenheim._

Damn. That bastard father of his wound up here too? And he'd… died?

Naw. He couldn't've. Edward hadn't punched him enough yet. He wasn't allowed to die.

Goddamnit, this library clearly hadn't seen a vacuum in eons, he thought as he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm, trying to stop them from watering. He took a steadying breath and looked back to the table just as a sinking feeling began in the pit of his stomach. Ed's instincts screamed at him that this feeling wasn't to be ignored. All thoughts of deceased, estranged fathers and delusional alchemists fled from his mind as he felt the all too familiar tingle, the tang of electricity in the air; before he knew it he was out the door and onto the roofs, back the way he came.

Alchemy.

Under any other circumstances, he would never have even been aware of a transmutation from such a distance, but years of being the sole being on this world with any practical knowledge of the science had honed his sensitivity to it. Back home, the scent had been everywhere, a part of the air he breathed. Here, he was the only one who performed it. Until now.

Being sensitive to spiritual pressures didn't hurt either.

The transmutation itself was large, and even from this distance, Ed could tell it had stopped at the deconstruction stage. Very few people understood enough about alchemy to be able to do that successfully, and the consequences were dire when they didn't. Either the transmutation would backfire and everything within its vicinity would be affected by the resulting rebound, or the alchemist's target would disintegrate.

Ed was desperately hoping for the latter, because an amateur alchemist was much more dangerous than one that knew what they were doing. And the spiritual pressure in the atmosphere told him that something was happening to Yami. Finally, someone was knocking him down a few notches. He almost couldn't restrain himself from killing the beast when he had pulled that stunt with the souls back when they had first arrived. Who had the right to just… _take _lives like that? If he met the guy responsible for Yami's current pain, he'd thank them… unless they managed to blow themselves up.

He slowed as he reached the clearing. They didn't seem to have noticed him through all the chaos. He had trouble taking in all that was happening: Uluqiorra, sword drawn, with an expression bordering on fear as he stared at the fatally injured blonde on the ground. An auburn haired girl kneeling, distraught, caught between protecting her fallen comrades and fighting. Yami, only now recovering from whatever the blond had done to him; and Ed knew it was he, because why else would Uluqiorra have raised his sword against him? But most curious of all was the stirring of bodies that should be dead, or at least empty of their souls. He stared, disbelieving, but no, this wasn't some morbid- yet exceptional- ventriloquism. The people that should have slowly died without their souls were no longer soulless, and Yami's spiritual pressure seemed to have been ripped apart before being put back together in a different order. Had the blond done this? Who was he?

Ed inched closer, aware that Uluqiorra had already sensed him from the way he had tensed slightly before relaxing. May as well reveal himself completely; maybe he even had a chance of diffusing the… situation, before it disintegrated into bloodshed _again_.

Yami had recovered fully now, and he was staring at the unconscious kid with something like an awed rage, "_what the hell was that?"_ he almost screamed.

Ed snorted as he sauntered out of the shadows casually, hands in pockets, "Well, it looked to me like your ass was almost whooped by a fourteen year old."

"_What did you say?!" _Ed shrugged, and just to piss him off more, he smirked.

Yeah. Diffusing situations was totally his forte. Fortunately for him, he had sensed three presences closing in, all with high spiritual pressure. And one of them was particularly volatile; _this _was the one Aizen was after, he was sure of it. Why else would he want a recon team to check it out, especially Uluqiorra? Only potential threats would gain the attention of his majesty, and this one definitely had potential. So now all he had to do was delay until the mystery guy got his ass over here. They could then complete this stupid mission and get the hell out of here before Yami had an apoplectic fit.

Easier said than done, Ed thought as he watched the young girl stand and throw up a spiritual shield around both of her injured friends, and catching the attention of an irate Espada in the process.

"What is this… a fly?" Yami looked scornfully down at her, and Ed had to stifle a groan at the man's stupid prejudices. But when he caught sight of what was happening to the two under the girls barriers, his breath caught in his throat. The broken skin was knitting itself back together, the blood was pooling _back_ into their veins, and their breathing was evening out. This wasn't a healing. She… it was a time-space reversal technique. This was the closest thing to alchemy he had seen in a long time. And it seemed that his two other _companions_ had also noticed. Yami was looking at her curiously, one of the only other emotions he could express apart from bloodlust.

"What should I do?" he said, as if the decision was riding solely on his shoulders. Pfft. "She has strange tricks Aizen might be interested in. Maybe I can tear off her limbs and then bring the rest to Aizen…"

Ed's blood ran cold, "That's not necessary you dumbass, I thought you only came here for one person"

Yami grinned, "Whatsamatter Elric? Don't want to watch?"

"Ugh. You're revolting. Quit playing with your food"

Uluqiorra, who had been silently observing until now, spoke, "No… he's right. Just kill her"

_No, that's not what I meant at all!_

Ed thanked the stars and multiple gods he didn't believe in (he knew quite a few now, this world was so very deluded) that at that moment, he was saved from having to interfere by the very person they were here for. Uluqiorra shifted slightly, and Ed knew the Esapada was aware of who the orange-haired boy was. Yami, however, was clearly ignorant. Typical.

"Who the hell are you?"

The orange-haired boy- Kurosaki, Ed remembered- didn't answer, though his eyes never left Yami's and his sword never lowered. Behind him, the girl stood, wide-eyed and silent.

"Sorry I'm late Inoue"

Inoue looked stricken, "But, you shouldn't have to do this Kurosaki! If I had been stronger—"

_Oh no, is this going to turn into a second-rate romance novel?_

"Don't apologize" Kurosaki's eyes hardened as he shifted his focus onto the Arrancar in front of him. Ed was suddenly very tired of all of this; why couldn't people just run when they had the chance? Why did everyone have this innate need for conflict and violence?

"Bankai"

_Fuck's sake._

* * *

**A/N: This editing thing is slowly killing me. **

**-IMFU.**


	9. Crossing Paths

**A/N: Gah, Author's notes are Hard, with a capital H.**

**FMA Quote of the Day: "We became absorbed in the science that made you feel like you were magic." (Al)**

**Bleach Quote of the Day: "There's no way a mere, handsome, SEXY, merchant like me could use something like Bankai!" (Urahara Kisuke) **

* * *

**Chapter 8: Crossing Paths**

* * *

The eruption of energy left Uluqiorra wide-eyed (as wide-eyed as he could be, that is), Yami almost shivering with excitement for the fight that would ensue, and Ed's hair slightly ruffled.

He made a frustrated noise and redid it.

Maybe now their target was here they could do what they needed and finally _leave_, he had thought, but nooo, dumbass shinigami substitutes wanted to _prove _themselves with their stupid bankai.

"Inoue. Leave." Kurosaki commanded. Ed saw Inoue's expression crumple and she shivered, struggling with the tears in her eyes. He wondered if that was what Winry looked like every time he had left her behind, and then pushed the guilt away before it had the chance to stick. Think about it later, he thought, or not at all. The present was more important.

"C'mon! Another one? Tell me this is the guy!"

_Yes, please tell him this is the guy._

"Yes. Amazing how your senseless ruckus lured him out so effortlessly. He certainly fits the appearance", Uluqiorra had a special talent; he could answer a completely legitimate question in such a way that made you feel like the world's biggest dipshit. Ed was reminded of Mustang.

Yami also had a special talent; the ability to completely ignore any slights or insults that weren't aimed at his strength. Because strength was a serious business, and anyone who doubted his strength would be immediately pummelled into the dirt. He was an obsessed, larger, evil version of Major Armstrong. An evil version of the soft-hearted Armstrong that was currently about to crush the reason they were here.

_Why do I bother?_

Fortunately, the strike that was intended to crush the life out of their target was blocked by said target's massive blade. Kurosaki glared from behind his soul sword.

"Are you the one who ripped off Chad's right arm? And injured Alphonse?"

_Alphonse?_

"Hehe. Hell yeah."

_Alphonse Elric?_

"Then I'll take your right arm too!"

And with a rather spectacular flip, twist, slice, Ichigo Kurosaki did just that. Yami was silent, staring at his fallen arm. In fact, no one was speaking, though only one of them had suddenly found that even if he tried, the words wouldn't have come. In fact, Ed was having trouble breathing, let alone speaking. Ichigo looked appraisingly at the large figure in front of him.

"You're still standing… you must be as hardy as you look"

Uluqiorra raised an eyebrow at both his companions, wondering why Elric hadn't started snickering at Yami's apparent incompetence. With a mental shrug at the man's strange behaviour, Uluqiorra returned to study their target. Unfortunately, Ed missed the entire thing else he would have laughed his ass off at Yami's expense. No, he was much too occupied with the 'child trash' on the ground behind Kurosaki.

The boy was still in critical condition, but thanks to that human girl's unique powers, he wasn't going to die; and now that he was no longer covered in blood- as it had doe that weird time-reversal thing, like pressing rewind on a movie- his face had become more visible. And it was that face (rounded, honey-coloured complexion, dirty blond hair an absolute mess) that held Ed's avid attention. And he noted with slightly hypocritical disapproval that there were dark rings beneath the boys' eyes, and had to pull himself up short from carrying the boy to safety as he realised he was getting much too far ahead of himself. With a pang in his heart he recognised what he should have thought first, before jumping to conclusions: this world had doubles, mere reflections of the people he once knew. More than that, Ed had given up his existence in Amestris for Alphonse, and so it would be impossible for him to be here, unless…

…Unless he had used alchemy to open the Gate in search for Ed.

Oh, _fuck._

"You look like you're struggling. Care to switch?"

Thankfully, Ed was pulled from the beginnings of a panic attack (definitely not good for the reputation) by the cool tones of Uluqiorra, taunting Yami. Right, focus on the now, and the most likely, because _most likely_, this was some horrible coincidence that had caused this world's Alphonse to be in this situation, and _his_ Alphonse was safe, living life in Resembool with Winry and Pinako- if the old bat was still alive, which, given everything, was rather unlikely.

"Shut up!" the grunted reply was soft for the enormous man, but still loud enough to bring Ed fully out of his daze. He watched, wide-eyed, as Yami pulled his sword from his belt.

"Hey, hey, hey. Is it really necessary to use a soul cutter for the likes of him?"

"Shut the fuck up! I'll do what I want Elric!" And only Uluqiorra seemed to notice the slight twitch Elric gave at the sound of his own name, and the fleeting, wary glance to the unconscious blond. But that was mainly because Yami was too focused on the _annoying bug_ at his feet that had collapsed and seemed to be struggling with an invisible force. Banishing thoughts of Elric's eccentricities, Uluqiorra turned back to his study of the man- _boy, utter trash-_ before him. Kurosaki, who had seemed completely fine moments before, had spiritual pressure that seemed to be fluctuating rapidly, completely uncontrollable and unpredictable.

Kurosaki himself was rather aware of his predicament also; in fact, it was the only thing he was aware of at that precise moment, preoccupied as he was by the searing pain in his skull, and… was that cackling? _I can't move… ugh, no._ His partial lucidity allowed him to finally define exactly why he was feeling an overwhelming sense of déjà vu._ This had happened before. It's _him_ again… get out of my head! _

Ichigo clutched his head as he fought the demon, the hollow inside of him, and was watched by the curious eyes of Uluqiorra and Yami. Ed had better, more distracting things to think about, like, _what the hell is Al doing here? Oh _fuck.

Unfortunately for the intruding trio, all three had become so preoccupied with what was happening before them, and what they had discovered, they didn't notice or remember those two other presences that had been closing in until they landed between the collapsed teen and Yami's sword.

* * *

Yoruichi and Kisuke were not happy at all with what they saw when they reached the clearing where they first sensed the enormous spiritual energy, though Kisuke had much more practice hiding it. He thought of how much could have been prevented if he had not been delayed, first by the summons from Yamamoto, and later by the confusion brought about by the strange spiritual pressure that they sensed splitting from the other two complete Arrancar. They had been pulled between their two duties; to protect Kurosaki and his friends, or to find out what the mystery presence really was. Thankfully, both duties coincided after a few confused moments, as the spiritual anomaly began heading back toward their original destination. Whoever- whatever- it was had clearly felt something happen, as it had only been gone about twenty minutes before it had begun its return trip, in haste. And, Yoruichi had to admit in a small, dark corner of her mind, that this new anomaly was _fast_. It had been further away, but had reached their destination minutes earlier. And in an even smaller part of her mind, she may have admitted that that fact was potentially scary.

But finally they were here, and it seemed that no one had died. Kisuke had met an especially teary Orihime at the edge of the park on his way here, who had been leading a group of bystanders away from danger, dazed but apparently unharmed by their bout of soullessness. Orihime had almost fainted from sheer relief at the sight of them, before launching into a run-down of events… and managing to do it all in one breath. The only thing either Kisuke or Yoruichi had understood from that word vomit was that Kurosaki and friends were in danger up ahead, and really, Kisuke thought, it wasn't as if that weren't already obvious.

And now they were here, and Yoruichi was busy distracting the big guy from pummelling a downed Kurosaki whilst Kisuke studied their opponents. A dark-haired, pale Arrancar that seemed to be evaluating the new turn of events with calculating eyes, much in the same way Kisuke himself was doing. But he seemed more of an observer than anything else at the moment; a scout then, Kisuke reasoned. The big guy was the brawns, clearly. But the other…

Within moments, Kisuke knew this was the Arrancar whose spiritual pressure held the interests of not only Yamamoto and Kurotsuchi, but he himself. It was fluctuating rapidly, violently, in a seemingly random pattern, though the Arrancar himself seemed largely unaffected and unaware of it. As if it was all occurring subconsciously. Intriguing…

It was strange, the feeling that he should _know_ this person, who just stood, seemingly completely vulnerable, staring at the newest addition to their dysfunctional hollow-fighting team, Alphonse. It was strange, because Kisuke _wanted _to know who this person was, this person who wasn't in the least interested in fighting, who was clearly content to stare at Alphonse as if struck dumb. And he had never, for the life of him, ever wanted to _know_ an Arrancar. And yet, this one seemed so…

"Hello. Sorry about our belated rescue everyone" Kisuke didn't know who Yoruichi was talking to, as the only other allies present were unconscious, or struggling to battle against their inner hollow. Whatever her purpose, she seemed to have broken the ice nicely, and also brought the enigma of an Arrancar's thoughts back to the situation at hand. Slightly, startled, he took in the surroundings and then… snorted.

"What is it now?" he asked exasperatedly, "This is not a circus, for fuck's sake! Yami, I thought you killed everyone near here? Where are they coming from? They're like cockroaches! They just won't die!" Looking at the Arrancar's face, Kisuke got the strangest feeling that said Arrancar was rather pleased with the overall lack of deaths that seemed to be occurring. But that was just silly, right?

"Shut the fuck up, Elric. I'm getting on it."

The big guy- Yami- actually looked disgruntled at the jab. As disgruntled as one can be with one arm, that is. Which as it turns out is actually quite disgruntled. Yami gave a feral sounding snarl, and said "Elric" as if inwarning, which merely made the other man blink innocently. Yami raised his fist once more, sword in hand, and everyone save Uluqiorra had to resist rolling their eyes.

"You're certainly a persistent bastard arencha?" Yorouicihi was always one to point out the obvious, Kisuke thought blandly as both sides prepared for another face-off.

Kisuke himself wasn't too worried. He could easily parry this blow, with little to no effort on his part. What did catch his attention though was the way the golden Arrancar closed his eyes briefly, as if resigned to the fact that he could do nothing to stop his larger companion. Smiling, Kisuke thought that it was always nice to be underestimated.

The spiritual energy released from the large Arrancar's downward stroke was massive, but nothing Kisuke could not neutralise with a blast of his own spiritual pressure. And of course, he did just that. The resulting smoke and residue energy dissipated in the air, revealing the rather obvious fissure that split the earth, separating the two opposing forces. All three enemy hollows stood, surprised and impressed, though two of them hid it well. Kisuke allowed his face to break into a small, smug smile.

"I suggest you do not cross that line" he said lightly, pointing to the fissure in the ground.

Yami scowled, "How did he survive that?"

"Here, let me explain" The Elric persona said, with ill-contained glee. "This guy, having at least half a brain, outwitted you. Though that isn't hard in itself, the way he did so is quite remarkable. He completely neutralised your attack with an attack that was _exactly_ the same in strength; and did I mention he did so in a matter of seconds? Quite ingenious… quite interesting."

And why did this Elric sound so disturbingly similar to Mayuri Kurotsuchi when he talked like that? Still, he was nevertheless impressed by the amount of blatant disrespect and contempt Elric held for his colleague. But Kisuke was beginning to be slightly unnerved by the volatile nature of this mysterious blond, no matter how intriguing he was to puzzle out; or how inflated his own ego was under the compliment. Yami, however, seemed to think Kisuke's genius irrelevant when compared to his own strength.

"No… they just like taking it in turns to get their asses whooped. Dumbasses" He opened his mouth wide, and preceded to suck in air like a vacuum. What was not like a vacuum, was the way in which the air was condensing with his spiritual pressure, a concentrated ball of pure, red energy. Yoruichi sucked in a breath in surprise.

"Cero?!" she breathed. Certainly they wouldn't go to that much effort to kill them off? The two ex-captains were, however threats which would have to be neutralised sooner or later. Especially with this awesome new weapon Kisuke had equipped Yoruichi with.

This was not going to end well for them, Kisuke thought, and then was almost immediately proven wrong by a golden-haired Arrancar, who had taken two swift steps forward and promptly shoved the hilt of his sword into the big guy's gut. Kisuke winced in sympathy as blood spurted from the creature's mouth, and he fell backward in a graceless heap, struggling for breath. The Cero he had been creating took an early exit from the proceedings. Kisuke was rather grateful of this fact, though equally confused.

"What… the hell?" Yami was panting like spent dog, but still somehow managed to sound indignant and enraged.

Elric snorted, "Idiot"

Kisuke was under the impression that this man was either brave to the point of stupidity, or had a death wish.

Unless, of course, he was strong enough to overpower the Big Guy if he chose to fight- which was profoundly more terrifying.

* * *

Ed was tremendously relieved when Yami decided to up the ante and get extra stupid. Not only did it give him an excellent outlet for his stress and pent-up emotions (i.e. Yami's gut), but it also gave him the chance to put an end to all this bullshit. And now all he had to do was come up with a flimsy excuse that would hold for all of five minutes.

"Idiot.", he snorted, secretly amused by the puce colour Yami's face seemed to be turning, "Have you final lost it, Yami? These two are Kisuke Urahara and Shihuoin Yoruichi. At this rate, we'll lose. Unless we escape." Employ flimsy excuse: check. Unfortunately, it was never that simple for Edward.

Yoruichi could be seen visibly seething at the attempted retreat, "So you're running? Cowards."

Ed stepped forward, mask in place and emotions hidden behind a cocky smirk. "Well now, I could easily wipe you all out right here" her drew his sword and levelled the tip just above Alphonse's neck, "Starting with this one. I have no qualms in silencing the whines of the weak and defenceless. Shall I begin?" He asked mockingly, trying desperately not to look down, lest his mask slip.

Kisuke was eyeing him suspiciously, and then suddenly he wasn't anywhere, before reappearing directly in front of Ed, hand holding the tip of the sword away from the unconscious boy. He glared at Ed, and if it had been anyone else, they may have been intimidated by the sudden change in the man's normally easy-going (deranged) disposition.

"I will not let anyone else come to harm. Touch him and face the consequences. I promise you that"

Ed felt his mask slip in surprise for a moment, before he hastily wiped his face of all emotion. They stared at each other, neither backing down. Ed searched the others eyes for any sign the man was lying, but only found determination and a hint of steel behind his calm façade. Really, he shouldn't be all that surprised. Shinigami had a protective streak a mile wide, and, more importantly, this was Alphonse. It would be just like him to gain the support and trust of powerful, _honest _people as effortlessly as he found stray kittens. He felt himself calm. Kisuke would keep his word, and protect Alphonse from himself and the other Arrancar. Even though he knew there was still a large chance that the boy wasn't _his_ Alphonse, the weight in his chest was already lifting. He didn't think he could bear harm coming to _any _Alphonse. He felt a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, but turned it into a smirk before anyone noticed the difference.

"Alright then." He conceded, and savoured the look of blank shock that washed Kisuke's features. His eyes still locked on Kisuke's, he continued, "A promise like that is meant to be upheld. I hope you keep it, if only to make our next _encounter_ more interesting. I'll be off then" And with that he swung his sword over his shoulder and sauntered back toward his… well, not _allies, _or even _accomplices_… maybe business acquaintances?

Kisuke shook himself from his shock long enough to narrow his eyes, "So you're still taking the coward's way out? Typical of a hollow."

"Haha." His sarcasm was his valiant attempt at trying to hide the relief he felt behind a mask of cold indifference. _Don't look at Alphonse, "_You're certainly one to talk. You'd have had to fight whilst protecting your injured friends, and you've already resorted to using weapons that are detrimental to your own health." He said, nodding toward Yoruichi, who promptly stopped clutching her injured arm and gave him a death glare. He smirked, "Even with the both of you, you'd still be unevenly matched against one of us, let alone three. Are you truly that desperate?" and then he turned, dismissing them through his body language before they could reply. He shot a questioning glance at one of the only half-intelligent colleagues he had, "Uluqiorra?"

"I've already prepared my report for Captain Aizen. As funny as it may be, the fake shinigami we were targeting… it turned out he wasn't even worth killing. Just more of the usual trash."

Ed nodded, and then opened the path to Heuco Mundo. As the portal was closing, he gave Alphonse one last, longing look, before lifting his eyes to meet the ex-captains'.

And Kisuke was left standing in the midst of the debris that marked their confrontation, a contemplative expression on his face.

* * *

**A/N: Hey! Back again. And I've finished my HSC! I have no idea how I went, but I guess I'll find out. **

**Some of you have been confused about what exactly Ed is, whether he's an Arrancar, Espada etc. Allow me to clarify: this is kind-of AU, so I see the different types of hollows as such: hollows are a species (like humans) Arrancar, Menos etc are all different races (i.e. Caucasian, African…) and ****_then_**** the Espada are a particular type of Arrancar, sort of like a status symbol because they can be rejected (like Nelliel), and so are solely called Espada as a reflection of their power levels and the fact that they have shinigami powers. Ed is Ed. He defies universal laws and shit, so he's an Arrancar/Espada but… not. Be patient, grasshoppers. It will all be revealed to you in time…**

**Also, in response to another query, Ed is not 'working with' the Arrancar, per se, rather, he is 'co-existing' with them. My inspiration for this story came from my love for both animes, as well as the most brilliant fanfic of all time "Fading footsteps" by stickmarionette. It's a HP/FMA crossover, and in it Ed becomes a Professor during the time when Tom Riddle was in school. Basically, Ed is only using his position to get access to the research he needs to get home. He's not on either side of the wizard war. He's just there. I'm reflecting this in my fic. Ed's just waiting and researching, but of course he needs a place to stay right? And so, why would he bother moving out of the place he first landed in? But now that Al is in the picture, things might change… well, maybe. We'll see.**

**-IMFU.**


	10. Reunion

**A/N: So, this is my life now. I don't know whether to feel accomplished or depressed. Can I be both?**

**FMA Quote of the Day: **

**Al: Brother...am I scary?  
Ed: Please...you're kindness in a can.**

**Bleach Quote of the Day: "There is no such thing as perfect in this world. That may sound cliche, but it's the truth. The average person admires perfection and seeks to obtain it. But what's the point of achieving perfection? There is none. Nothing. Not a single thing. I spit on perfection! If something is perfect, then there is nothing left. There is no room for imagination. No place left for that person to gain additional knowledge or abilities. Do you know what that means? For scientists such as us, perfection only brings despair. It is our job to create things more wonderful than anything before them, but never to obtain perfection. A scientist must be a person who finds ecstasy while suffering from that antinomy. In short, the moment that foolishness left your mouth and reached my ears, you had already lost. Of course, that's assuming you are a scientist." (Kurotsuchi Mayuri)**

* * *

**Chapter 9: Reunion**

* * *

"I'm back! Ururu. Jinta. How's Yoruichi?"

Jinta snorted and gestured toward the living room. Kisuke followed his lead, not surprised in the slightest to find an extremely tipsy Yoruichi knocking back yet another alcoholic beverage. She smacked her lips and nodded toward him when he entered.

"Hey Kisuke!"

"How's the arm?"

"So-so. Not too much problems."

"Can you fight?" She caught the calculating gleam in his eye and knew she couldn't lie right out. The best she could do was skirt around the issue. Damn perceptive bastards that cared too much.

"…his skin had surprisingly dense spiritual pressure. The shield was almost impenetrable." So that's a 'no' for now, he thought. She hesitated, as if contemplating how she should approach the subject, "That other Arrancar… I saw the way you looked at him. What do you think he is?"

"To be honest, I haven't the foggiest. But I think he and I may have reached some sort of understanding" he said, a bemused expression on his face.

Yoruichi became suspicious. "You and an Arrancar of Espada level reached an 'understanding' in all of the two sentences you said to each other, most of which contained threats?" she raised an eyebrow in doubt of him.

"Yes, I believe we did" he said cheerfully, "It was all in the eyes, you see. Now onto other matters…"

Yoruichi sighed, admitting defeat. She knew that look, and she knew he would not tell her any more than he already had until he was ready. But she also knew that this 'golden' Arrancar would want a rather high price for any kind of betrayal to Aizen. And more over, Soul Society was not the kind of place that bred forgiving Shinigami. Once this Arrancar's usefulness ran its course, it would be disposed of. The Arrancar himself should be aware of this, so what was he planning?

"This is a dangerous game we're playing Kisuke…"

* * *

School, Al decided, was fun. The syllabus was rudimentary at best, and Al was not the type of person to argue semantics with teachers, or correct their mistakes (unlike a certain sibling of his), but the library was extensive, and the people were interesting. Alphonse hadn't interacted with so many people in one day. Being born in the country, and then being a suit of armour did not garner social skills or many people willing to be social. But now, whole, human and relatively safe, Al could almost forget his worries for a while and enjoy the company and human touch he'd been denied for so long.

Except…

And there it was. The qualifier. The 'this is how I'd like to live _BUT_…' and the list of exceptions follow.

But Ed was missing.

But he was in a different universe.

But Mr. Kisuke kept giving him strangely searching looks and Al was worried that the man had found out where he came from. That he had lied. Was he trying to intimidate him into revealing himself? It was like he knew something, or suspected something and—

_ "—So…which room is it?" _Al heard the vaguely familiar gruff voice as it echoed down the hall and through the half-open doorway. It was trying- and failing to whisper. His fellow classmates' heads turned as noisy footsteps became louder with proximity, and another voice replied in another not-whisper whisper.

_"No idea" _A female, though not high enough to fit in with the rest of the teenage cohort.

_"What? Didn't you bring your note with you when we left?" _Irritation coloured his reply, and Al got the distinct feeling that he knew the face behind the voice.

_"Ah… I lost it."_

_"Lost it? The hell is wrong with you?!"_

_"Stop arguing! Just pick up on their spiritual pressure." _Just how many of them were there? And in what universe did they think impersonating 21st century teenagers was a good idea?

(Al valiantly ignored the sniggering Ed-voice that was saying things about pots and kettles)

_"It's the first time I'm in this thing. I can't control my spiritual pressure." _Yet another voice.

_"Please excuse his stupidity"_

_"I'm not stupid! Anyway, how can you act so natural in it? I mean, the shirt is so tight and restrictive"_

_"Then just pull it out like this."_

_"Idiot! If I pull it out, then I can't wear the wooden sword on my belt. Who's idea was it to prohibit real swords anyway?"_

…wooden sword?

_"It wasn't our idea. It's the law"_

_"…crappy law" _Al was beginning to worry about the safety of his peers what with being confronted with disgruntled, powerful souls wielding almost-kind-of-not-really blunt instruments.

_"Shut up! All of you. And don't draw attention to yourselves"_ As the door opened, Alphonse wondered whether they knew exactly how loud they were being and continuing to be so disruptive out of pure obnoxious arrogance, or if they really were that oblivious. An amalgamation of the oldest looking high-school students he had ever seen piled through the door in an uncoordinated heap. Alphonse would have smiled at the contempt on Hitsuguya's face as he surveyed the people in the room, but realised he was one of those people.

"How's it going Ichigo?" the cheeky grin on the redhead's face hinted at _his_ level of obnoxiousness, at least.

"What are you guys doing here?" Really, after all that happened, he didn't know? Al sighed at Ichigo, albeit fondly. He could be so dense at times, like Brother. Hitsuguya rolled his eyes.

"It's an order. They said to prepare for a direct confrontation with the Arrancar"

"… What was that?"

"The thing that kicked your ass a few days ago."

Why was everyone here as tactless as his brother?

And why did Ichigo look like a kicked puppy?

He was walking away from a rather desolate looking Inuoe, a defeated look on his face, and Alphonse had to resist the urge to pet him, his expression was so pathetic. Alphonse sighed, feeling rather put-out that he was being faced with a case of Edward's guilt-tripping tendencies in someone else. Ichigo was blaming himself for something he had no control over. Although he didn't understand everything that went down, and being out of it himself, only had second-hand information, it was clear that the Homunculus-like creatures –Arrancars Al reminded himself- had been out of even Kisuke's league. Ichigo had had no chance. He shouldn't be beating himself up over not protecting the others 'enough' as he had put it. He should be praising himself for surviving in that situation, and saving his friends from certain death. Of course, when Al had tried to point it out to him, Ichigo had given him a sullen look and said, "Easy for you to say. You have that weird spirit energy you can use to destroy those creatures with your bare hands. _You_ saved them."

Of course, _that_ had been spoken in a series of stubborn grunts and half formed sentences that really made no sense at all, but Al had much practice in the translation of sullen, guilt-ridden mumbles. And if he'd been any less patient as his personality dictated him to be, he may have stomped his foot and screamed in frustration. Couldn't he have a moments reprieve from emotional self-flagellation? Wasn't dealing with his brother enough?

Thankfully, this world seemed to have a merciful higher power. Or maybe it was Lady Luck, because right at that moment, a dark haired woman posing as a school girl climbed through the window.

"Ichigo!"

That was the only warning anyone got before his orange-haired friend was pulled out of the same third story window, after having his soul kicked out of his body. Al decided at that moment not to worry too much about Kisuke's suspicious looks because clearly everyone one here was slightly unhinged.

* * *

_Nov. 21 1949, Heuco Mundo, Earth._

_My first meeting with these creatures was… revealing, to say the least._

_After a while they became more accustomed to me, particularly after they discovered what I was. Regardless, I'm still an oddity to them and only recently have they begun to treat me as an equal. I think they may have been intimidated and possibly even jealous, of me. I was in a human form whilst they remained grotesque caricatures of their former selves, despite the number of souls they consumed. I suppose now their feelings are quite different. I am grateful, despite the circumstances… _

Edward would have laughed had the situation not been so dire. So much for being treated as an equal. He had been under suspicion from the beginning. Resignedly, he closed his travel log ("it's _not_ a diary Al!").

Edward leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose, deep in thought. Slowly, he forced himself to relax. _Breathe._ As he inhaled the distinct musk of dust and paper, he felt his tense muscles unwind. He was in the library, relatively small compared to the cavernous rooms of his personal quarters, but overwhelmed with tomes and scrolls. As it was, he was still forced to enter the human world, so he could find sources that were _not _millennia old. It was one of the terms of his and Aizen's agreement, as Aizen had had little else to offer him besides these out-dated books.

_"I can offer you immeasurable power"_

_"You can? Great! Set it right over there." The sarcasm and blatant disrespect would've surprised Aizen. Usually contempt was a hidden thing, coveted, but never shown, like a stolen artwork. For the smart ones, it would show in their glib, witty banter that was full of dark insinuations. But for hollows, of course, dislike and disdain were paraded around and rubbed into the faces of those held in contempt. Clearly this hollow wanted to see how much more he could get out of this. And so Aizen thought nothing of it, and merely played the (admittedly boring) game. _

_"Excuse me?" polite, inquisitive. Superior._

_"I've already told you I'm not interested. You can't buy _my_ loyalty with power"_

_The emphasis was subtle, but still apparent, and many of his fellow hollows stiffened slightly, sensing the jibe. It was a challenge, and Aizen knew it. This was the hollows way of saying he didn't need to _borrow _power, that he had power enough. That _he_ was superior. Aizen cocked an eyebrow in amusement. "You're not interested in the ability to level towns with a sweep of your sword?"_

_A flash of annoyance crossed with something darker marred his humanistic features for a moment, before they become a cool, blank canvas. "Not particularly. Besides, I doubt you could bestow _that_ particular skill upon me, despite all your omnipotence, _Captain _Aizen." Aizen's eyes narrowed here, realising that he was being mocked. Him. Mocked by a hollow. It was ridiculous. "And there are more _useful_ things to be interested in."_

_Aizen was truly puzzled. What was more useful than power? As if in answer to his silent question, the fully formed hollow smiled slyly._

_"Information _is _power, Aizen. Surely you knew that?" And it didn't escape the defector's notice that the hollow hadn't referred to his title as Captain. Probably purposeful, he surmised._

_The man wanted something, clearly. But to not want power? Aizen had to admit, for a hollow, the man before him was… interesting. For the first time in decades, Aizen was feeling slightly challenged by the riddle before him. He narrowed his eyes._

_"And what information would be considered powerful to you, Mr…?"_

_"Any and all data can be used in some way, sir. I want to know a lot of things. Can you provide for me, or will I have to trade my information with someone… else?" The pause was subtle, but Aizen knew the underlying threat for what it was. Timing was essential to the success of his plan, and right now, no one was aware of his takeover of Hueco Mundo. _

_The ex-captain was slightly stunned by the realisation that he'd been manipulated. Him. _Sosuke Aizen. _And looking at this golden-haired, fiery eyed hollow, Aizen also found that the man knew he knew he'd been manipulated. He narrowed his eyes._

_"I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement, Mr…?"_

_"Edward Elric" The admission was accompanied by a triumphant, wolfish grin. _

_Predatory._

_This was not your typical Hollow. Aizen smiled. He did always enjoy a challenge._

He had thought this arrangement would have appeased them both; it had certainly appeased Edward. So _why_ had Aizen been waiting for a reason to do this?

He sighed and admitted defeat for the night, marking the page before slipping the book under his arm and heading toward the door. He couldn't concentrate with all this crap running circles in his mind. He would hit the books again tomorrow. It was frustrating. How long had it been? It was hard to tell in a world where outside it was eternally night, and inside it was day. He was thrown off balance for so long at first, but he had managed to follow his own, internal clock after couple of months- or it had felt like months, at least.

It was so _frustrating._

It wasn't that this world's literature wasn't fascinating or its science unhelpful. He'd already formed a solid theory about the workings of the world, which seemed to have its own twisted form of alchemy; the manipulation of spiritual energy. He had realised long ago that his father's theory about the souls of this world fuelling the energy of the Gate was only somewhat true. The existence of soul society accounted for that. But there was so little information on this world's alchemy, and what was at hand was so vague it was obvious the practice had died out before it had even had the chance of being. So really, he had nothing to go on to validate anything. And he truly didn't feel diving headfirst into untested transmutations was the way to go about getting home alive and relatively intact. He had gained the ability of impulse control. One too many acts having too little forethought and leading to chaos and too much hindsight may have attributed to it.

It only took four decades.

He was exasperated for his fellow hollows eternal obsession with power and one-upmanship. Particularly Grimmjow's pitiful attempts at rebellion; his continuous 'up yours' attitude toward Aizen was bound to bite him in the ass in future. Idiot. It had perplexed him, this constant show of blatant insubordination, until their spats had reminded him of his verbal- and physical- spars with the Colonel. From then on, any jabs to his height were only one more aide-mémoire of the world he was missing.

And anyway, he was _tall_ now.

(Though he tries very hard to avoid standing next to Yammy)

Even if he _ever _managed to get home, there was no precedent he could use that would tell him what would happen _after. _Would he revert back to a human? Die? Stay a… _monster_ for life? He was suddenly struck with the thought that if that happened, he would stay sixteen forever.

It was a sobering (depressing) thought.

He wondered how Dante and Hohenheim (bastard) could ever have coped with living like this for 400 years. How could they have continued like that for so long, _willingly?_ How could they have accepted a body that wasn't their own, that rejected them and rotted away whilst they were left grasping desperately for a younger, supple one? At least Ed didn't have that problem; his heartbeat assured him, as had the fact that this was _his _body.

Regardless, eternal life was _boring_. The thought of living forever horrified Ed for that very reason- what the hell was he supposed to do for eternity? No wonder Aizen had defected from Soul Society; at least it was a change from the monotony, and gave the man a challenge for his considerable intellect. He couldn't really begrudge Aizen for his sociopathic tendencies. Ed doubted he would have stayed as sane as he was if he hadn't had the challenge, the purpose of getting home. Already he was beginning to find his research repetitive and uninspiring. Though he was loathe to admit it, the thought of taking a break from his research no longer filled him with guilt; and it scared him.

He had considered, on the increasingly frequent occasions he found himself longing for _something _to _happen_, that he should take up sparring again. He had diligently completed his forms each day- to train the mind, first train the body- but he had given up fighting regularly for more time researching. Now, he fantasized about punching things, and was suddenly aware that he really needed to let off steam. Grimmjow would be more than willing to take a shot at him; as would Yammy Llargo, but Ed found his uncanny resemblance to Basque Gran unsettling. Nevertheless, being under new management was one other reason for him to get back into shape. What was Aizens ultimate goal again? The perfect Shinigami-Hollow hybrid (Chimera, Ed thought)? A coup? World domination?

Ed snorted and opened the door to his quarters. Seriously, what was it with immortal beings and power? You'd think immortality would be enough but apparently, even sociopathic hollow got bored of feeding off of souls, and Aizen had provided them with a convenient outlet for their pent-up energy. Ed was reminded of caged dogs.

An immediate worry for Ed though, was the angle Aizen was taking with this most recent development of his plans. What was a girl- ('a _human_ girl' everyone but Ed snorted at the notion) becoming Aizen's 'guest' meant to accomplish? Their illustrious leader was interested in her unique powers, of course, but that couldn't be the sole reason. Ulquiorra had been sent as her escort (kidnapper) after all. He was the most trustworthy for any mission, so the matter was of importance. It didn't help that his lack of information was a result of his own actions. His refusal to be another of Aizen's little bitches left him under the suspicions of the rest- more so than he already had been. And after his actions in the human world, it was bound to only get worse.

And now the human girl was coming, and he hadn't a clue why; though he suspected such a 'lowly' being would doubtless cause dissent within the ranks. Grimmjow, of course would be insulted; absolutely disgusted- as would the twins, Aizen's personal pets.

He sighed again, something he had been doing a lot more of recently. What once had been a raging fit at any slants at his height had just turned into a small sigh and a tired smile, because he knew now how very _not _worth it the entire thing was. Mustang would be disappointed; Ed had come to realise that the man had thoroughly enjoyed his histrionic reactions. Pity he would probably never see the man again.

_Are you even still alive, you Bastard? Or did the Fuhrer get the better of you…?_

_Al, did it work?_

He never really indulged in these thoughts –worries, fears, night terrors— for too long; he had learnt from experience that it showed on his face, and such a _human_ expression was a sign of weakness; just begging for trouble. He could hold his own quite well though, and he always wondered at the irony of it all. These _hollows_ were more powerful the more human they looked, but thought themselves weaker the more human they _acted_. They reminded him of the military scientists of Lab 5, striving for the creation of the perfect chimera. Typical to want to be more than human, but at the same time want to remain unchanged.

_Humans are all such vain creatures, no matter when we're not actually human._

The whole lot of them reminded him of Envy. And that was another thought that was never allowed to develop too far. He rubbed his aching chest (phantom pain, a fucking sword, _through him _and then he was _dead_ and _goddamn Envy) _and flopped onto his mattress, thankful that at least the utilities had improved along with the change in leadership. He yawned and decided he'd had enough for one day.

He would figure all this out tomorrow.

* * *

**A/N: **

**Okay, so… hi. *ahem* I sincerely apologise for the utterly inexcusable belatedness of this update. And now to list my various excuses: my laptop broke and I've only recently gotten a new one (you are all very lucky I had the foresight to back-up my files), I became unnaturally addicted to reading fanfiction rather than writing it, every time I did begin writing I got blocked or distracted by. More. Fanficiton. Oh, and I am lazy. **

**The only way I could think to make it up to you guys was to make this chapter particularly long. At least for me. I've read Beautifulfiction's works and each of her chapters are, like 6,000 words, minimum. She's scary. And my idol. Another one, that is.**

**I missed a couple of words and stuff last chapter, so it may have looked a tad spastic in some places. But don't worry! I did fix that. Fixed, it is.**

**(Possessed by Yoda, I have been.)**

**This fic, Disclaimed it is. Rights to the owner they go. There is no try; there is only 'do' and 'do not do'. Actually, there are none of those either. There is only 'review'.**

**Or the force be used, it will.**

**-IMFU. **


	11. Mala Suerte

**A/N: Jesus H Christ, eleven chapters! I do feel accomplished!**

**What a strange, new feeling.**

**FMA Quote of the Day: **

**Psiren: Sleep tight, Pipsqueak!  
Ed: Who are you calling a Pipsqueak? You know, I'd be tall too in heels!**

**Bleach Quote of the Day: "From this point on, all your opinions will be rejected!" (Kurosaki Ichigo)**

* * *

**Chapter 11: Mala Suerte**

* * *

**Heuco Mundo, on the cusp of Grimmjow's unauthorised invasion of Karakura Town…**

Somewhere in the depths of Hueco Mundo, between the walls of shelves lining the ancient library, a golden head tilted sideways to listen a moment. It was faint, so far from their 'castle' that he was sure no one else was sensitive enough to hear it, though no doubt others were watching. It was like cloth in the wind, or paper fluttering to the floor or a crackling fire. A rippling, a shearing, a whisper, a splintering, and a soft touch all at once.

A tearing in the fabric of dimensions; of worlds.

A gate. But not the one he was looking for.

Sighing, his golden head bowed and shaking, as if in disappointment, Ed wondered what Grimmjow could possibly seek out of his escapade other than a lost limb. Soon Aizen was going to try and acquire both the girl with the strange healing powers and the boy (_Alphonse_, his mind whispered). He had no idea what they wanted with his brother's doppelganger, but it could only be something foreboding. That boy had done himself and Ed no favours by revealing alchemy's power. If Aizen made the connection between what the boy had done and Ed's research… Ed hadn't allowed himself to think too much on it, because then he would begin to think that the boy who looked so much like Al was _his _Al, and that would just invite a host of conflicting feelings. He shouldn't be both happy and furious that Al had followed him through the Gate, that he had so blatantly revealed himself, showed himself to Aizen, made himself a threat, an enemy_._

And he was starting to think his doubting Al's- His Al's- presence here had merely been a desperate attempt at denying all the implications that came with it. Once again, the two had been thrust into another elaborate conspiracy for the omnipotence and immortality of one being, and once again Ed had wanted to pretend the threat away, or pretend Al away, if only to keep him safe, especially now that he was flesh and blood and so, so breakable.

And now everything was falling apart around his ears, the stakes were so much higher now, and the whole plan relied on a man in a bucket hat whom was slightly off his rocker, brilliantly perceptive and completely untrustworthy.

So why was he more terrified of Al seeing him as… this, than he was of failing?

Maybe because failing was largely impossible, what with his extensive list of contingency plans that had contingency plans of their own. He needed reassurance, something he was loathe to admit usually, but with the exigent circumstances (_Alphonse) _currently in play, he was more than willing to accept comfort.

After that he would get back to plotting.

Rather than wasting time on a nigh endless trip through countless corridors, rooms and anterooms, meeting halls and councils, Ed strolled over to the sole window in the entire complex and jumped out. He landed lightly and found himself a mere stone's throw away (which was a rather considerable length, given his arm) from the very people he was seeking. He smiled as they caught sight of him-

"Oof!"

-and suddenly found himself with an armful of ex-espada.

"Eddie!" The tiny-but-powerful amnesiac was the only being in existence that had ever gotten away with _that_ particular bastardisation of his name. He blamed it on the lisp. Over the top of Nell's emerald head, Ed saw her self-appointed guardians straighten into a formal stance, and begin to raise their arms before he scowled spectacularly.

"I told you not to do that."

"But sir-"

"No. You were never under my authority, and this isn't even close to military." Ed jerked a thumb toward Las Noches behind him, "The people in there are a bunch of power mongering idiots, _not _soldiers. Don't pretend otherwise."

Dondorchakka stepped forward and bowed slightly, though he did relax his rigid posture, "We do not follow blindly, Master Elric" he replied, somewhat reproachfully, "You should know this by now. Only those that we feel deserve our respect will we bow down to willingly."

"And if I don't want you to act like you're inferior?"

Don smiled slightly, "All the more reason to do so, sir"

Edward was clearly not pleased by this answer, but let it drop, "Whatever. Nel, stop slobbering on me. People notice things like that."

Nelliel stuck out her bottom lip as far as it would go, "But Eddie! You can juth alchemith it back to dry!"

"People notice light shows in a dimension of endless midnight as well, funnily enough."

Nel blew a raspberry in Ed's face, showering him with spittle. He backhanded her in return and she flew across a dune, landing face first and kicking up a cloud of dust in her wake. Don sighed, "Must you always be so violent about it?"

Ed scrubbed a hand over the disgusted expression on his face as he replied, "If you have any less violent ways to clobber a person over the head, I'll be happy to listen to them. Besides, she spat on me! _Again."_

"Edward Elric."

Ed straightened as he took in the sight of the scantily clad, full-grown Nelliel. He nodded to her, "Nel Tu. I'm glad to have some civil conversation at last. Very few have to do with anything other than the bloody glory of fighting." He rolled his eyes.

Nelliel smiled, "As am I Edward." She gestured toward his face, "You have my apologies. Childhood lacks any impulse control whatsoever."

"No harm done" Ed replied, although the scowl had returned. His eyes suddenly sharpened as Nel's words registered, "Wait. You recall this? Can you remember anything else?"

She nodded, "When I am in this form, my original self, I can remember everything that has ever occurred during my time in this world. In my child-form, I can only recall bits and pieces of my memories as myself during the relapses, but nothing from my time as the 3rd Espada." She frowned, "It is… frustrating, trying to reconcile the two experiences."

Ed shifted uncomfortably, suddenly guilty, "I haven't given up, Nel. I _will_ help you."

Nel's smile was wide and bright, "I know, Edward Elric. I have faith."

Way to make a man feel worse.

"But that is not the true reason for your visit, I can tell. If you have business, speak your mind now, for I don't know how long I will remain like this."

Thankful for the subject change, Edward set his mind to the matter at hand, "Right now, Grimmjow and a handful of like-minded fools have decided that an early invasion of Karakura town is a wise decision. Aizen is going to use the aftermath of that to instigate the next phase of his ridiculous plan, and unfortunately, there's no preventing that without revealing myself." He paused to consider Nel's expression, one of concentration and determination. She seemed to read his mind before he could ask the question.

"I am willing Edward Elric. What would you have me do?"

Ed smiled. He recalled how fragile their partnership- or whatever you called this- had been when he had first approached her. It had been easy to see the shared sorrow and pain, if anybody cared to look.

He had walked in on her multiple times in the past when she was in this state, and like now, always found it a miracle that no one else had stumbled in on her. Although, he _was_ the only one that had no qualms about sidling in like he owned the place. Which, he thought with grudging acceptance, he technically did.

"You can hear them, can't you?"

"What are you referring to Mr. Elric?"

"The souls." He replied calmly. She froze, "You can hear them screaming, you remember how it was to be a part of that endless jumble of voices before your own identity asserted itself. And you're scared of being anything more human because you think it might make you feel the guilt you're hiding. So long as you're 'not human', so long as you reaching for power, you can drown them out. Right? Because why would something as low as humans cause you grief? All you should care about is the next fight, the next victory, the next soul to retain your form." He knew he was being melodramatic and would, under any other circumstances, cringe at this blatant display of concern for another, but it was all part of his play.

He needed her.

Nelliel had stilled by now, but outwardly, showed no signs that she was listening.

His voice got softer as he continued, "And that's why you're loyal to Aizen. He gave you a permanent form, and a human one at that. You won't have to consume souls anymore. But it won't stop."

Her gaze sharpened on his, suspicious and… pained. The emotion showed for only a fraction of a second before it was completely blank once more, but Ed's eyes were sharper. She hid her emotion well. Good. Ed met her eyes and smiled slightly, sadly, "The screams. They won't stop. You'll stay like this forever because their screaming at you to listen, and you won't because you can't face them, face what you've become. So you reject everything that reminds you of what you once were, so you can pretend that this is what you want… but it's not and it won't change, not if you ignore them. Not even Aizen can help" _It won't stop. It'll just get worse. And Aizen is a selfish bastard with his own agenda._

"Listen to them" _Listen to me._

It wasn't long before she came around. And she flourished. Ed had felt good that he was able to achieve _something_ in this godforsaken place. The first time she remained silent, but he knew she was just processing it, thinking it over. It was her choice, in the end. She knew what he was really offering, and regardless of her choice, he could trust her to keep her mouth shut. And now she was listening intently as he explained what he needed of her, and she was ready and willing, without being manipulated of threatened by someone more powerful.

He stood.

"I'll leave you to it then, Nelliel"

He hadn't known Nnoitra had been so determined to see the end of her. Whether it was because of her pacifist views, or because she had then been the only one to be allied to the one Arrancar with no loyalties, he didn't know. In the end, the reasons behind her ultimate downfall were extraneous. It's ironic how, when he'd finally found it in himself to make a connection, it got torn away from him, and now he felt even more alone than before.

But that part of his life was over now, because he had found her again, and helped her, and everything was in place (He was _not _going to say anything close to 'foolproof', because that just invited his plans to jinx themselves). But there was no desperately patched together, barely-there, or improvised plans, and so Ed could count his current position as having the advantage over Aizen.

He was going to enjoy the look on the man's face as everything around him crashed and burned.

Literally

* * *

**Karakura Town, Inoue Orihime's residence.**

Inoue cried into Matsumoto's chest as she felt her own helplessness, grateful to have at least someone to understand, to comfort her. And then the feeling, the crushing weight in her chest that was certainly not anguish, was something distinctively _spiritual,_ came over her. It felt dangerous, alive and dead, and she was suffocating on it, until she caught her breath and realised. The feeling was both a reflection and a distortion of what she had felt earlier, in the clearing just last week. Only it was bigger and broader, and with more intent.

And as suddenly as the feeling came, she was alone.

She had felt it, she knew she had. She had no doubt that Matsumoto had had no trouble detecting the murderous intent spreading throughout Karakura town, and so she held no grudges toward her. Nor would she blame the woman for her sudden and not totally irrational feeling of bereavement and abandonment.

She wondered whether she should go and help, and she was almost finished changing when kisuke's words came back to her with force.

_Right now, you are not strong enough to fight. Your healing powers may be useful, but only on the sidelines. You would just pull everybody else down as they tried to protect you…_

That's right, she wasn't good enough. Not a fighter. And the only weapon in her arsenal was injured and half dead.

_So useless_

She sat back down on her bed and cried.

* * *

"It's started." The words were a murmured warning to no one. He was alone on the roof whilst his second in command played nursemaid to an emotional, pubescent female. But, as he felt the sudden sharpening of Matsumoto's spiritual energy, the feeling that signified her shedding of her physical body, Hitsuguya figured that would not be the case for long.

"Captain" A question and an acknowledgment at once.

"…I know" It was hard not to know, unless you were as spiritually unaware as Kurosaki, and even he would know something was up. Which was both a blessing and a curse.

"Shall we cut them off, or are we to wait for them?"

"If we stay here, they are bound to wreak havoc along the way. Not to mention Kisuke's warning…"

"Well let's go then! What are you waiting for? I had to get dressed for this!"

Twitch twitch.

* * *

Alphonse was giving the scissors in his hand dubious looks when he felt it. That same stomach-lurching feeling from before that spoke of power, and taint and menace, only much, much worse. This could only mean another invasion, and on a grander scale than the first- a terrifying thought.

He had barely survived two of these creatures, and the fact that he was alive seemed to have been solely hinged on the Arrancar's sudden and unprovoked retreat. They had left, but they could have easily left behind a body count with them, if the information he'd gathered was accurate. The only reason he could think of for this was that they had never invaded with the purpose of killing; they had wanted to find Ichigo, and observe his threat levels (_"they're trash, all of them")_, and once that was accomplished, had no reason to stay.

The only reason he was even hopeful of the outcome of tonight's invasion was due to Hitsuguya and the other Shinigami. Not that he wouldn't have tried regardless of the odds; this was something he just couldn't walk away from. He had to help protect the town. Even if Kisuke had warned him against it. He'd been told that his powers- his alchemy- had gained the attention of Aizen. Not only was he a potential threat to Aizen's plans, but a potential weapon, if captured.

It was simply the right thing to do.

Leaving the scissors on the kitchen sink, he ran toward the door before remembering (and chiding himself for his vacant thoughts) Inoue. He'd need to be quick if he wanted to stay within the company of Hitsuguya and Matsumoto. Turning down the hall, he scooped up his shoes from his temporary bedroom before knocking briefly on his friend's door.

"Inoue? Are you in there?"

No answer, save for a faint sound that sound suspiciously like a sniffle. Cautiously, he opened the door.

"Inoue?"

And there she was, in jeans and a long-sleeve v-neck, curled around her pillow and crying silently, like it was her first break-up. A worried frown marred Al's features and he came further into the room. She looked up and locked eyes with him as she sat up abruptly and scrubbed furiously at the tears on her cheeks.

"Oh, Alphonse… did you need something? If you're hungry, there's some leftover…" She trailed off at the dubious expression on his face. Her shoulders slumped.

"What's wrong, Inoue?"

"I'm just…" She blinked the tears threatening to fall away and sighed, "I'm just so… _useless"_

Alphonse shot her a concerned look and lowered himself down next to her. He knew he should be out there helping, but if this wasn't dealt with right now, he knew these feelings of self-loathing would fester and nothing anyone said later could quell them—he'd had more than enough experience with Ed.

"Is this about what Kisuke said?"

Inoue jerked a bit, as if surprised that she wasn't the only one perceptive to other people's emotions. She nodded tentatively, but hastily clarified, "I- I don't _blame_ Mr. Urhara. I mean, I know _why, _I just—"

"But do you?"

Inoue was confused, "…sorry?"

"I mean, sure at the moment, you're vulnerable. You have no weapon, no way to fight physically, but there's no valid reason you shouldn't be able to help. Your healing powers are extraordinary!" He nudged her should a bit and she smiled slightly. He lowered his voice, "the only reason you shouldn't be out there right now, is if Aizen is specifically targeting you, either because of you powers, or your inexplicable connection to Ichigo"

Inoue's face was almost amusing in the way it became red and horrified and pleasantly surprised all at once.

"I think if Aizen had you at his mercy, Ichigo would do absolutely anything to get you back."

Inoue flushed harder and started stuttering, "I-I don't… He doesn't even—"

Alphonse smile gently and got to his feet, pulling her up with him.

"Well we'd better go show him, now hadn't we? Seriously, he's as oblivious of his own feelings as my brother."

They were almost out the door, when Alphonse stopped abruptly and turned on his heel, looking sheepish.

"… I forgot my shoes."

* * *

**Surveillance Room, Las Noches, Hueco Mundo**

Edward Elric loved Winry Rockbell. It had taken years for him to own up to it. After the first two on this world, he realised the aching in his heart was not solely for the unknown fate of his brother. It had taken him another year of, every time he was in the physical world, freezing at every flash of blonde hair, sparkle in sky blue eyes, and whiff of machine oil for him to come to terms with the fact that his love for Winry was equally as strong as his love for Al, and not in any platonic, familial way. It was as he stared at a middle aged couple walking along the street, with a young girl gripping the hand of her slender, blonde and blue-eyed mother that the realisation hit home.

He was _in love_ with her. And he'd only realised after being stuck in another dimension for three years.

_He was in love with Winry Rockbell._

What a disaster.

It's clear now that he was born with some sort of death-wish gene embedded into his DNA.

He'd taken to wondering if acting too late had become a compulsion of sorts for him. Which inevitably had him fretting over exactly how fool-proof his fool-proof plan was.

And that had led him here; after, of course, his detailed talk with Nel and her fraccion. So. Here. Him. Covered in sparking wires that conducted spirit particles throughout Las Noches, and had a tendency to take little chunks of his own spiritual pressure along for the ride. But not to worry, all part of the plan. The one he was using to attempt to quell said frets and worries by putting into place _yet another_ failsafe. Where did that wire go? Of course, he wouldn't have needed to if what had happened during that last mission to the Human world hadn't happened, because Aizen wouldn't have a sudden raring desire to know about alchemy after seeing what this new boy could do. Not that he knew it was alchemy, but it was still worrying. 'Interesting' Aizen had said, and that was like a freaking flag on fire being waved by an elephant in the middle of suburbia now, wasn't it? 'Interesting', like he didn't feel shocked or threatened by this new, unknown element in his plans. An element that was meant to _remain_ unknown until the right moment, but _no,_ Alphonse doppelgangers had to go and screw _that_ up, didn't they? What was it about his brother that always had Ed throwing all his plans out the window and wanting to punch people in the face to solve a problem?

_And why was that sparking like that?_

* * *

"There are more beings with high spiritual pressure tonight than in the first invasion. Take care to kill anyone with an ounce of spiritual pressure. I'll take care of the fake Shinigami myself"

He should be getting commended for putting himself through this, and all for the sake of finishing off a threat to Aizen's plans. A threat that Ulquiorra, in his ignorance, had deemed in his report to be _too powerful_ to be dangerous. _'Self-destructive' my ass,_ Grimmjjow thought. This fake Shinigami's rate of growth was too alarming to just let alone. So Grimmjow would take care of what Ulquiorra couldn't.

Of course, he'd like to play a little first. He appreciated the entertainment Di Roy and the petite, black haired Shinigami provided him, even though it seemed that the Shinigami was versed in the ways of slaughtering Di Roys. It didn't matter. If Di Roy couldn't handle a simple Shinigami- no matter what her zanpakuto looked like- then he wasn't really worth anything alive, was he? But damn, did this girl like her pretty light shows; this was less like a fight than a fireworks display, really. How disappointing.

And more disappointing than that, was Kurosaki, his target, lying on the ground, struggling to gain any advantage over a _gigai_ of all things. If he could barely fight off being sat on by something so weak, what was the point of this expedition at all? But Grimmjow was here now, and he was damned if he left without seeing what all the fuss was about. Both the petite one and Kurosaki were talking now, though Kurosaki was still under the woman's gigai, so Grimmjow stood from his perch on the adjacent rooftop and called out.

"What is this? Di Roy's killers are still hanging about?" as he said it, he released some of his concealed spiritual pressure and delighted in their horrified reactions. Both stiffened, and Kurosaki threw the girl's gigai off him with an ease that belied his earlier struggles. He stood and gripped his zanpakuto tight, raring for a fight. Good. Girmmjow continued, "I'll have to do something about that. I'm the sexta Espada, Grimmjow. Remember my name as I kill you both!"

He thought they both looked sufficiently intimidated indeed. Smug, Grimmjow stuck his hands in his pockets and sauntered down to the pavement, towards them. He leaned forward, conspiratorially, "So? Which is it?" He flicked his eyes between the two of them as they tensed, although he already knew the answer. Although the girl's spiritual pressure was rock steady whilst Kurosaki's fluctuated like a yo-yo, it was clear he was the stronger of the two. "Which one is stronger?"

The black haired Shinigami's eyes widened as she realised his true target. She turned to Kurosaki, "Ichigo! Fall back now"

Well, that wouldn't do at all.

Grimmjow took two lightning steps and flung his hand out, full to the brim with hardening spiritual pressure. His fist sliced through her rib cage like it was butter, and he relished in the choked sound that found its way out of her throat. He quickly grew bored of her, however, as all she did was beseech Kurosaki to "leave", and discarded her like the pile of trash she was. She crumpled to the pavement and did not move.

"Knew it," he said, with a sidelong look over to Kurosaki, "Definitely not her"

The look on Kurosaki's face was priceless. He screamed and lunged for the Arrancar. Girmmjow grinned.

This was going to be fun.

* * *

Alphonse had made it to Ichigo and a dark haired Shinigami- Rukia Kuchiki?- just as the latter was impaled with a sword. He had left Orihime to deal with the aftermath of Hitsuguya's (_captain Hitsuguya's) _fight after Matsumoto had come, requesting Her healing powers. The sword holder had a grim, satisfied smile on his pale face, and even though this man- hollow? Arrancar?- was leaner and taller, and not at all possessing the ability to transform into look-a-likes of lost loved ones (_Mom)_, it still sent a thrill of terror down Alphonse's spine.

(_no, not him, not my brother, Ed, ED!)_

His hands shook as he tried to gain control of his faculties and push the unwanted memories (_philosphers stone, Dante, Envy, OhgodEdhasaholethroughhischest)_ down enough to assess the situation. Ichigo had captured the Arrancar's attention now, and was engaged in an intense sword fight. The strength of their energy- spiritual pressure? This world confused him- was amazing. And the speed that they were fighting at was making it exceptionally hard to keep track. Also, Rukia was dying a little.

He should do something about that.

He knelt over her and looked at the wound. Oh, that was very not good at all. At his touch, Rukia forced her eyes open and looked up at his.

"You're n-not supposed to be here, Rockbell. S'not safe"

It sounded like breathing was a struggle. Alphonse raised an eyebrow.

"I'll just go then, shall I? Or, maybe, since I'm here, I'll give you what help I can, so you can, I dunno, _not die? _Then, maybe, _you _could go help Ichigo, who is in much more danger at the moment. Now how does this spiritual stuff work?"

Rukia Kuchiki blinked. Edward always said that Alphonse could mother hen like no other, which was true, because you needed to be more like a tyrannical ruler than a mother hen if you wanted Edward Elric to take care of himself.

Rukia blinked again, seemingly shaking herself out of whatever fugue state she'd been in, and began to speak.

"I… need a medic shinigami. I could do it… myself, but… I-I don't have enough…"

"Spiritual pressure." Alphonse finished. He could see it happening beneath her fingers, the faint glow of blue; like alchemy, but not. The healing process wasn't doing much though- the blood had not stopped flowing. She was pouring more and more energy into her wounds, and thus doing herself even more damage, because there wasn't enough to properly treat it.

Rukia nodded shakily and focused on her breathing. Alphonse nodded decisively.

"Right. Easy enough." And before Rukia could ask what that meant, Alphonse had clapped his hands and placed them on her wound.

"No!" Rukia's scream almost jarred Alphonse's array from his mind, but he was not a prodigy in alchemy for nothing. He looked into her face, and his heart almost stopped at her horrified expression. _Oh. _No one here had ever seen him do anything with his alchemy except for what he'd done to that massive Arrancar during the last invasion. She thought he was…

_"Oh. _No! nonono. It's alright, Rukia. Just look, it's okay." Rukia stared at her wound, which was glowing a lot brighter now under both their hands, and her eyes widened as she felt the shift in her spiritual pressure. It was increasing at an exponential rate, until she was almost full to the brim. She turned stunned eyes to Alphonse, who looked not smug or even satisfied, but relieved that whatever he did seemed to be working.

"What- what did you do?!"

Alphonse smiled, "Nothing much. I just lent you some of my energy. I don't know much about healing or anything, so I couldn't do much else, but now you have enough to heal yourself, right?"

Rukia nodded mutely. She had no idea what Alphonse was, but she was very glad that 'an enemy' was not one of those things.

What else could this boy do?

* * *

**A/N: Please note that time in this fic is similar to time in most anime, i.e. it does not make sense. Therefore, it is completely plausible that Alphonse and Orihime spent the entirety of Hitsuguya's fight doing that talking scene, and thus Orihime still ended up going to help him rather than fighting.**

**…Shut up, its fantasy. I can do what I want.**

**-IMFU.**


	12. Bedside Manners

**A/N: O.K., so last chapter one of my anon. reviewers pointed out to me a bit of vague sentencing that confused them. I would just like to say, I've read it and it's been 'fixed'. If you're too lazy to go check it out, I'll post it here:**

**"Rukia blinked. Alphonse realised that no one had had the opportunity to see him play nursemaid to anyone yet. Edward always said that Alphonse could 'mother hen' like no other, which Alphonse had to admit was true, because you needed to be more like a tyrannical ruler than a mother hen if you wanted Edward Elric to take care of himself."**

**If anyone is still confused, read it from Alphonse's POV. Because my reviewer (whoever they were) was right: Rukia has not met Ed, and won't for a while. **

**Another error also came to my attention, thanks to silverwolf. I may have accidently, called Alphonse 'Mr. Elric', when he is currently going by the pseudonym Rockbell. It is fixed now, and I apologise to anyone who was confused by it. I have no one to blame but my beta. It's all her fault. :P**

**Also! Many of you have been asking what Ed is; Arrancar, Espada, Hollow, Englishman? Pianist? And my answer is this: Edward does not know, (though he has an idea) because asking would risk revealing his lack of knowledge about the world he is in. I am going to be making this information part of the plot later on, so telling you would be a spoiler. However, if any of you are dying to know, PM me or review ****_while_****_signed in, _****so I can reply. **

**FMA Quote of the Day: **

**Hughes: (showing Ed a picture) Look! Can you believe how big Alicia has gotten? She can even ride a tricycle now. She follows me everywhere on that thing, like my own escort of cuteness.  
Ed: Yep, you're the same as ever, Major...Nice and insane.**

**Bleach Quote of the Day: "Remember this well. There are two types of fights. As we have put our lives in battle, we must be able to distinguish between the two. The fight to protect life, and the fight to protect pride." (Ukitake Jushiro)**

* * *

**Chapter 12: Bedside Behaviours**

* * *

"I clearly misjudged _you." _Grimmjow said with a lecherous grin as Rukia came into his line of sight, _"_Shinigami can't regenerate, so how'd you heal so fast?"

If he was at all worried that he was now outnumbered, he gave no sign of it. _Pride comes before the fall,_ Rukia thought. Although he had just admitted to misjudging the situation at hand, he still underestimated the both of them.

"I, unlike you and your kind, have friends for whom I would die to protect, as they would do the same for me. Such a friend risked his life to heal me."

"Interesting, but it's still bullshit. I've felt no new spiritual pressure in the area, so you must be much stronger than I first believed. You can't get out of fighting me that easily, Shinigami."

Rukia was surprised. He hadn't sensed Ichigo's friend? Actually, come to think of it… Rukia didn't remember any distinct spiritual energy around the boy either. She must have been distracted by Ichigo's explosive fight. She parried another blow as Ichigo came up behind the enemy. Yes, that must be it. She was distracted then and she's distracted now, _focus, Rukia_,_ before you're impaled again. _Ichigo struck just as Rukia made a swift jab at the Arrancar's hilt, forcing his focus on her, and not Ichigo's leaking spiritual pressure. _How can he not know how to conceal it? It's simple enough! _Nevertheless, Grimmjow still managed to block both attacks with ease. He skipped backward and laughed, mockery colouring his voice.

"Is that _all?_ And here I was thinking I was doing Aizen a favour, disposing of you"

Her hopes that Ichigo would keep a level head fell flat and were trampled all over by a disgruntled elephant when Ichigo growled and charged the hollow, all wounded pride and blind rage as he swung his sword, leaving multiple openings in his defence; which Grimmjow exploited with unsurprising ease. Rukia sighed and repressed her own rage and concern for her friend as he was flung unceremoniously into a wall a few blocks away. It was to her utmost chagrin and annoyance that she realised Grimmjow wasn't even putting an effort in.

Just like a cat batting its' paws at its caught prey.

_He's playing with us…_

Well, the cat should learn not to antagonise the cobra. The moment an opening presented itself to her, Rukia struck with all her considerable strength and spiritual energy, an upward slash that cut across his chest and stopped just below his collar bone. He attempted to strike out at her once more, as before, but she moved out of arms reach before his murderous intent could reach fruition. She fought the urge to smirk- it was unbecoming of a Kuchiki; an enemy could not seek to take advantage of your pride or arrogance if one remained stoic and emotionless during battle.

"We are not to be taken lightly." She said, not at all imperiously, "Soon you will realise that, Arrancar."

She moved her right foot backward, lowering herself into an ideal position for attacking.

Her timing could not have been better. As far apart as she and Grimmjow were, and as accurate as Ichigo's aim was, she could still feel the utter devastation of his spiritually dense Getsuga Tensho as it past, mere inches from her nose, and precisely where she had been standing not a second before. She blinked, and remained mostly composed, save for a small 'eep' which escaped her lips, a sound she would deny all knowledge of emitting later. She looked at Ichigo with a disapproving scowl, and was gratified at the sheepish look he gave in return. He seemed to realise just how lucky she had been to avoid that blast.

"Ah… ooops?" his expression faltered and paled at the Look she gave him.

_Stupid, reckless idiot._

Fortunately, Grimmjow hadn't been as lucky. As Ichigo's residual spiritual energy dissipated from the surrounding area, they were able to sense him, much weaker now than before. And once the smoke had cleared, they were treated to the image of an Arrancar pulling himself out of the rubble and debris caused by his rather violent impact with a house. Hopefully the owners of that house were out for the night. There were no convenient trees to blame this on.

It was a pity that Ichigo's attack only served to make Grimmjow angry, like a lion poked one too many times at the zoo. He growled, low and guttural, teeth bared in a snarl, and both shinigami had to fight the natural, instinctive urge to run from what was clearly an enraged predator. Especially when he stood and lunged for them.

Rukia refused to acknowledge the hilarity of Ichigo's '_oh shit' _face. Hers was undoubtedly the same. She blamed it on the pointed canines inches away from her neck, ready to tear at her jugular. And what was taking Ichigo so long? All he had to do was—

-Grab Grimmjow by the scruff of the neck like a misbehaving kitten?

Well, that might work, Rukia noted through her incredulity, looking at how the hollow was now in the perfect male anatomy kicking position. A position Rukia enjoyed taking great advantage of- for all her strict training in the House of Kuchiki, Rukia was still very much the troublesome street urchin from Rukongai. And although Rukia schooled her features into stoic indifference as she watched the hollow crumble and Ichigo wince, the orange-haired shinigami knew perfectly well how pleased she was with herself. You could see it in the delighted gleam in her eyes.

Ichigo was once again reminded why it was never a good idea to get yourself on Rukia's hit list.

Getting right back into it, Ichigo hefted the arrancar, and with a casual flick of his wrist, flung him a few feet. The creature straightened and turned with an incoherent snarl of rage, inhuman. To him, this was the ultimate insult. He was _not _to be treated like this, like he was _weak._ These shinigami were pathetic, and now here they were, taking this fight so casually, like he wasn't even a threat, underestimating _him, _belittling _him. _

Unforgivable.

In an almost precise imitation of Ichigo's gesture, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, sixth Espada, flung his hand out, releasing his sword from its sheath. An eruption of spiritual energy poured forth from him, spiralling outward in a devastating wind that left Rukia and Ichigo struggling to hold their ground. But hold it they did, and that was their first mistake. Before they had the chance to recover their sight, Grimmjow was upon them, and only Rukias spiritual sensitivity and shouted warnings stopped Ichigo from having his neck snapped between large, pointed fangs.

So _this _was their equivalent of bankai, Rukia thought, analysing the levels of spiritual pressure with growing horror. Soul Society needed to know about this immediately. Hitsuguya's explanation to Ichigo days prior about the power levels of hollows was inaccurate; they had been underestimating the overwhelming energy an Arrancar of this level had. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez had said he was the sixth 'Espada', like a captain, and his other comrades had merely been followers…

Soul Society might not be able to handle the force of Aizen's hollow army if it came to all-out war. They wouldn't be able to handle a direct confrontation with a force of this nature, not without warning and serious assistance.

Unfortunately, Rukia's thoughts were not only distracting, but demoralizing as well, and she was struggling to hold up against Grimmjow's onslaught. She was standing, but barely, and would not be if not for Ichigo's persistent defence. She chastised herself for her lack of focus, particularly since her partner was paying for it.

With new determination, she sent out an attack from her zanpakuto, intending for it to at least force Grimmjow to deflect or dodge it, and give Ichigo and herself breathing space to coordinate their next attack. But like all plans, this one fell flat, her attack having been blocked by a white clad figure. All eyes fell on the newcomer with heightened apprehension, and in Grimmjow's case, irritation.

"Ulquiorra!" He growled, and received a level, emotionless, yet somehow condescending stare in return. From that, it was clear to anyone else not in the loop that this was yet another arrancar, and one that held power and authority over the sixth Espada, if only a very small, begrudging amount.

Rukia had the suspicion that her 'oh shit' face would get a thorough workout tonight. How had she not sensed or seen him until that moment? She was getting horrendously sloppy, and Byakura would be disgusted. She promised herself that after this was over, and their foes thoroughly chastised and/or defeated, she would undergo a more rigorous training regime to regain the strength she had lost during the extended period of time she had remained trapped in a Gigai in the Human World. She tightened her grip on her sword and stood in a relaxed fight stance, and was pleased to notice Ichigo doing the same. It would not do to rush into things without at least assessing the situation first, and Rukia would have a hard time having his back if he joined the fight against two arrancars without warning.

This, unfortunately, was their second mistake.

They should have run.

* * *

It took a lot longer than Alphonse had anticipated to rendezvous with Orihime and Captain Hitsuguya. He didn't know just how much energy he had transferred to Rukia, but in hindsight it appeared to be too much. He had had to stop for rest thrice on the way, and was still pacing himself, despite the desperate situation. He knew he wouldn't do any good if he happened upon trouble in the state he was in, and unning toward it would only make his situation worse.

Taking a controlled, steady breath of air into his lungs, he looked around. This had been where he had sensed the energy fluctuations he had come to associate with his two new friends, and unless he was mistaken, they were still in the area. But he couldn't see them on the street, and they wouldn't just barge, unwelcome into someone's house, would they? Then where…?

Just as he came to the accurate conclusion, and turned his head skyward, a blur of white and black fell across his vision, and arranged itself from its landing crouch into the form of one of the first people- spirits?- Alphonse had seen- with _eyes-_ since coming to this world. Alphonse looked the boy over and smiled.

"Captain! I take it Orihime found you well enough?" He gestured to Hitsuguya's uninjured form and the Captain nodded.

"Yes. The girls powers are invaluable. But she is still just a child, like you. Very little knowledge of battle." He frowned, "She should be safe under the protection of Matsumoto's Gigai, but she's refused assistance, and can't be swayed."

Alphonse grinned, "Well, you're just going to have to allow it then."

Toshiro's frown deepened, "She will only hinder our fighting…"

"Excuse me if I'm being rude, Captain Hitsuguya, but shouldn't it be my choice whether I risk myself to help others?" Orihime made her presence known in a rustle of leaves as she jumped from a nearby tree, not having the luxury of stepping off the edges of buildings and expecting to survive. Her eyes were wide in her face, and her expression meek, but there was underlying steel to her words as she continued, "I know I can't fight directly, but my defensive and healing powers will still be useful. And I won't be a burden to others, I know how to conceal and protect myself as well as my friends, and I'd like a chance to prove myself."

Alphonse wondered if Toshiro ever smiled. He seemed to be in eternal disapproval of everything around him. But eventually, the captain relented in a single, reluctant nod. Orihime beamed, and Alphonse couldn't help but to return the sentiment. Toshiro sighed.

"Kurosaki and Rukia Kuchiki are a mile east of here. They are fighting with powerful signatures, most probably high-ranking arrancar. We should hurry." Again, Alphonse wondered for whose benefit the Captain was talking. None of the party- now consisting of himself, Orihime and Matsumoto- were as spiritually dense as Ichigo, and all could've pinpointed the source of the clashing spiritual pressures with ease. Or maybe he just liked having the last word, and then doing his flash-stepping thing into the darkness, leaving a trail of disturbed dust in his wake. The thought made Alphonse smile sadly, reminded again of Ed, and his habit of rushing into things.

At least Hitsuguya had the foresight to analyse the situation before smashing heads together, he amended as he came up behind the child-captain, who had stopped and was taking in the fight with troubled eyes. Rather than continue dissecting his friend and comparing all the ways he was reminded of his lost sibling, he turned himself toward the fight.

The breath left his lungs.

There were two of them, just as Toshiro had predicted. But although there spiritual pressure was high, they were not the massive source he and the others had felt before.

It was the creature.

Almost completely clad in white, save for the splash of red, with what was clearly a hollow hole in the middle of its chest, the reason for the being's presence was unknown and very unsettling. It was tall, with clawed feet and hands, and Alphonse noticed that it was the first hollow to have completely white, almost translucent skin. Most hollow were coloured much the same as any other human or shinigami, their differences only being in ability and that tell-tale hole signifying a lack of soul. But this one went much further. Its mask covered its face and head completely, starting from the base of its neck and wrapping completely around, ending just under the chin. Red-striped horns jutted from his head, crooked like a two-pronged pitchfork, and cuttingly sharp. The only feature of his face you could see clearly was his crimson eyes, though they were turned toward the two arrancar. He stood against them, and _that_ was the strangest thing about the hollow.

No, stranger still was that he seemed to be protecting Rukia, who lay unmoving behind him. A hollow protecting a shinigami…?

A choked sound escape Orihime lips, and Alphonse turned to her, taking in her horrified expression and feeling is heart plummet. A hand hovered over her mouth, as if she felt nauseas, and she stared at the monstrous creature with sorrowful eyes.

"Th-that's K-Kurosaki-san…"

Looking back at the hollow with dawning horror, he realised that she was right. Though now much longer, and unruly the hair that grew out of the back of the mask was Ichigo's striking orange, starting at the base of his neck and flowing like water onto his back. The hollows left hand curled around a black hilt, ending in a half meter of chain. Beyond the clawed fingers, a black guard took the form of a swastika, and then extended onward, to the obsidian blade, long and thin, and undeniably Ichigo's.

This was Ichigo, but at the same time, completely different. Without inhibitions or loyalties.

Hollow.

The fight was on his side, and the two arrancar were actually _struggling _to hold their ground. Ichigo fought viciously, intent on inflicting the most damage. And the scary truth was that he could. He had the power. How? How had he become so powerful, so quickly?

What was he?

As Ichigo tightened his grip on his sword hilt with clawed fingers and lunged back into the fray, Alphonse promptly shook himself of any and all distracting thoughts. He needed to do damage control, but first he had to stop this fight. Because right now, Ichigo definitely needed neutralizing… and then serious help.

"Inoue!" he had to shout to be heard over the clashes of metal on metal, and he wondered how humans could be so ignorant of this for so long. Alphonse grabbed her, shaking her none-too-gently to bring her out of her horrified stupor, and his heart clenched a little at the helpless look she gave him.

"Alphonse… what do I _do_?"

"Nothing" came a voice from behind him. Alphonse turned, and saw Hitsuguya and Matsumoto gearing up for battle, "We need to stop him quickly. The longer he stays in this form the harder it will be for him to regain his humanity. You and Alphonse have no place in this fight." He levelled them both with a Stern Captain look, one that dared defiance, before he and his second-in-command took off to try and pull Ichigo form the fight.

Alphonse dared. Though, the quieter, politer and all aspects nicer of the two, he was still an Elric. Rules were for those who didn't know their own strengths. Alphonse turned back to Inoue, who had a defeated, crestfallen look on her face. He turned her so they were facing, and looked her in the eyes.

"Fighting him will only make him more aggressive. Look at how fiercely he is protecting your friend- Rukia Kuchiki, wasn't it?" Inoue nodded, too startled by the intensity in his voice to do anything but listen, "If anyone even looks threatening, he will not hesitate to attack them. And both the Captain and his lieutenant are armed. They won't help matters. You'll have to stop him."

Inoue Looked at him. Alphonse got the distinct impression she was searching for the second head, or a gaping head injury. But he pressed his case, "Look, _this is important._ I haven't known him as long as any of you, but Ichigo is man of his word. He keeps his promises. _And he promised to protect you._ Don't you see? You're the best chance we have of stopping him long enough for him to regain his senses."

"But I-I… me? I can't—," Alphonse gripped her shoulders tighter, before giving her a slight push toward the raging battle.

"You can do it."

He said it with such conviction, Inoue found herself walking out onto the street before her mind caught up with her. But by then it was too late. Ichigo- or what was left of him- had thrown Matsumoto to the ground just feet away from where Inoue had emerged from the alley, and after fending off attacks from friend and foes, found and opening and that was all he needed. With an inhuman speed- even for a skilled shinigami- Ichigo flew toward the lieutenant, sword raised for a killing blow.

_No._

Inoue felt a surge of wild desperation hit her, knew that no matter what, that sword _could not_ reach its target, because if it did, Matsumoto would be dead and gone and Ichigo would never return to how he was. She ran, not knowing what to do or _how _to do it, only that she had to do something, _couldn't_ just sit by and watch this happen, like she had been doing all along.

_No longer._

And with that thought stuck in her mind she flung herself on top of her friend.

"_ICHIGO!"_

The blade stopped a foot away from her face, quivering with unspent energy, and Inoue suddenly didn't know what to think. Would he just continue the thrust, stab the both through like they were of no consequence? Was this all for nothing? But no, she saw, _there, _just a tiny flicker of recognition in the turn of his head, felt his spiritual pressure begin to normalise into something faintly resembling _Ichigo, _saw those red eyes dull to a familiar brown.

With a swift motion that made everyone flinch, a clawed hand brought the hilt of Ichigo's sword up, and then smashing down on his face. The mask cracked and feel partially away, revealing Ichigo's horrified eyes. The rest of his hollow outfit dissolved and fell away on the breeze, and what was left was the heaving form of Ichigo in his (thankfully) familiar shinigami uniform. Inoue's worry became alarm when Ichigo's breathing only sped up, and just as abruptly as he had smashed his own face in, he collapsed in heap in the dirt.

Only two of the entourage noticed the silent rescue that occurred that night. Hitsuguya merely caught a flash of gold just before he felt the gateway to Heuco Mundo close on three figures, but he did nothing to stop them, knowing that none of them would be prepared to continue fighting, despite Orihime's tender administrations. He only shot a questioning look Alphonse's way, who had said nothing since Ichigo's return to reality, and sat by a recovering Rukia with a stricken look on his face.

For all his reasoning, Hitsuguya thought, feeling slightly concerned for the boy he had rescued from the Dangai all those months ago, Alphonse didn't seem to be nearly as cut out for the various horrors of battle as he made himself out to be.

* * *

Ed felt like screaming.

Of course he couldn't, because he was the resident enigma; the even tempered, level headed genius that appeared full-formed from nowhere and had no goals save to while away his time in the library surrounded by the words of long dead theorists and philosophers. He was the anti-social arrancar who had enough balls to challenge Aizen with intellect alone, and he had iron-clad control over his expressions and emotions. So, no. Edward Elric could not do something so contradictory to his image as screaming, even if he was having a mini mental breakdown inside.

Instead, Ed let Grimmjow do it for him.

"Gah! That fucking hurts Elric! What the fuck are you doing?!"

…however grating it was.

"Will you _shut up_ already? I thought you were all about the 'pride of the arrancar' and shit? What the fuck are you doing whining like a little girl?" as Ed observed the puce colour Grimmjow was turning with growing (hidden) delight, he conceded that there were always some upsides to controlling your inner urge to throw a loud, destructive tantrum. Like channelling it all into scathing replies that left people gaping like fish.

As it was, there was no gaping from Grimmjow this time. He did get a guttural growl out of him though. Having seen the way Kurosaki had literally handled Grimmjow before he went batshit, Ed was inclined to smirk at this reaction. He wagged a finger in the man's face disapprovingly.

"Bad Kitty. I should just leave you for Iceringer to patch up."

An enraged snarl for his troubles. No appreciation at all. Ed gave him a look of indifference and added, casually, "Hey, _you_ came to _me_."

Grimmjow was stubbornly silent. Seriously, Ed could sense how quietly stubborn he was being. Wasn't this guy, like, centuries old or whatever? No fucking maturity whatsoever.

Ed sighed, put-upon, no longer in the mood for this tête-à-tête, "Lift your leg up."

Grimmjow did so, still stoically silent.

They were in what constituted as Hueco Mundo's only infirmary and hospital, which remained largely disused because hollows could show no pain, regardless of having a majority of their bowel in places bowels shouldn't be, as that would be against their code of honour or what the fuck ever. These people are morons.

More moronic was the fact that Ed was stuck here treating bratty, irritable arrancar (he ignored the Al-voice talking about pots and kettles in his head all the while) whilst he felt he'd be more productive having the mental breakdown he was fending off in the privacy of his room. Why?

Because Alphonse Elric.

He had just been on retrieval. It had been voluntary, and completely against Aizen's orders (always a bonus), but he had foreseen a shit storm of historical proportions had Ulquiorra _and_ Grimmjow been any later than they were. As it was, it was bad enough dealing with Aizen's mini tantrums over the fact that they were injured, and how this would alter The Plan; so Ed had taken it upon himself to ensure their safe return and subsequently stop the little bitch from whining. Feeling the level of Kurosaki's spiritual energy after he went temporarily insane, Ed had expected to find the two severely injured in some form; and, of course, Kurosaki.

What he hadn't expected was the entourage of followers Kurosaki apparently had, his personal cheerleading team. The bigger surprise being Alphonse. Kneeling on the sidewalk, with a petite, black haired girl in his arms (he would keep a close eye on her around his far-too-young brother), and staring straight at him. And it was sickeningly cliché and fluffy, but the moment their eyes met, Ed knew.

Not an Alphonse Doppelganger then. Damn.

This was the Gate's fault. The biggest asshole in existence was a fucking Dimensional Portal.

Grimmjow was giving him a Suspicious Look. Ed was aware that the other hollow had been studying him for the past ten minutes or so as he was treated, and knew he was building up to something. When accompanied with a Suspicious Look, Ed had always found that these behaviours preceded a slight to his person. Well, he could give what he got- with interest- as well as the next person.

"Where is your hollow mask Elric?"

Ed blinked. Unexpected. He had lived here how long now, and that question hadn't been brought up at all? And since when was Grimmjow observant of shit all? Ed's nerves were fried, and the timing for this question could only have been worse if Aizen were in the room. Stupid turn-about hollows changing their personalities and observational skills at the drop of a hat. Maybe if he pretended he hadn't heard…? No, Grimmjow had an expectant look on his face, and Ed knew he wouldn't let it drop without a reasonable answer.

If only he had a reasonable answer.

_Damndamndamn._

"_Elric?"_

Right. Now to employ delay tactics. He straightened and said, with his most deadpan expression, "In my sock drawer"

"…what?"

"You know, for safekeeping."

"You don't have a sock drawer."

"Got it in one, Grimmjow. How did I ever mistake you for an idiot?"

"hey-" Grimmjow tried to protest, violently so, but Ed just caught his fist in his own and continued, stoic expression belying his gleeful tone.

"-oh, right, the evidence of your idiocy is right in front of me. Couldn't even make losing a worthwhile cause, could you? No, no, had to be something as pathetic as _squabbling with humans._ I mean, was being grievously wounded and having your men slaughtered just a way to pass the time? Because you gained nothing from it."

Grimmjow predictably didn't want to talk about his short comings, lack of impulse control or recently dead 'friends' for lack of a better word. His sullen, "Whatever" was enough for Ed to know the conversation was more or less over. Delay tactics successful.

He slapped the Arrancar's side, "Turn"

Grimmjow scowled at the order, but complied. Whilst Ed was focusing on the healing, he decided to try again, squashing any of Ed's hopes that he had successfully steered clear of the topic.

"You didn't answer my question. You have no hollow mask, not even a hollow hole that we can see. Where are they?"

Ed straightened and looked at him levelly for a time. Grimmjow stared back in challenge, and Edward sighed. He narrowed his eyes.

"Just how loyal are you to Aizen?"

A snort. That loyal, then? Excellent. "You planning a coup or something?"

"Would you care if I was?"

Ed didn't appreciate the amusement in Grimmjow's eyes. It felt mocking. "Not if you're planning to off that pink haired freak down in the labs as well. In fact, making it a package deal would probably make me want to help."

Ed didn't grin in triumph just yet. That had been too easy, "Szayelaporro Grantz _is _ too unpredictable to let live." More like sadistic and all kinds of disturbing, "but what's _your_ reason for wanting him dead?"

Grimmjow growled, "That bastard tried to-"

The door to the infirmary opened, and the both of them tensed at the sight if the figure stepping into the room. Speak of the devil and he shall come to you, lacking a groin and demanding your patients be test subjects in highly questionable 'biological study'. Freak.

"He's not going anywhere with you. Aizen still needs him to fight in the final battle, and that means no live autopsies, dickless wonder." Ed said his piece and resumed checking Grimmjow over before the door had even swung shut. Grantz hadn't even opened his arrogant mouth yet. If Grimmjow had not been spluttering at the indignity of Edward Elric fighting his battles, he may have admitted (if only to himself) being impressed, but largely suspicious of Ed's recent change in personality. Much was different about the reclusive and reserved hollow (_where was his mask?)_ from this one, and he was barely recognisable from even a day before.

Grantz was Not Amused.

"That is irrelevant. I need to analyse his injuries to determine Kurosaki's new strength levels, and how to combat them."

"You don't seem to understand, Grantz, that I don't give a fuck."

Grantz hissed. Fucking _hissed_. Why was everyone making animal noises at Ed today? Was it the weather?

Ed raised an eyebrow, "If that was an attempt at whistling, it was terrible. The shape of your mouth was all wrong."

Grantz's hand fell to the hilt of his sword, "_You _don't get a say in the matter. _You _are of no use to Aizen."

Ed had had enough. He took a step, an in an instant had a hand twisted in the front of Grantz outfit, and had pulled him down (only a _bit)_ to Ed's level. For all his dagger-glaring and bared teeth, his tone of voice was verging on polite when he spoke.

"Ithink _I _might give _you_ some injuries to analyse, Grantz" and for the first time in a long time, Edward took a risk. A risk that would probably turn around and bite him in the arse, but. It was nonetheless stupendously satisfying, watching Grantz' eyes widen in shock as the spiritual energy saturated the room, suffocating. Ed's grin was feral, dangerous, "There's a _reason_ why Aizen lets me do whatever the fuck I want."

"Now get out, before you lose more than just your manhood."

Grantz left, acting like his body was moving of its own accord, and looking dazed. Grimmjow was shocked himself. _What the fuck had just happened?_ He wanted to ask, but Elric was already moving, finishing the healing in record time and heading for the door. So what came out instead was,

"Fuck Elric. You have terrible bedside manner."

And Edward _laughed._

* * *

From the moment their 'conversation' concluded, Grimmjow payed a worryingly small amount of attention to Ed. You'd think after revealing yourself as a traitor, your personality doing a complete 180 and showing off hitherto unknown amounts of power, a man like Grimmjow would immediately take either an inordinate amount of interest in said persons goings on, or demand a fight or some shit. One of the three.

There was nothing. It disturbed Edward, this lack of response, but he refused to let it show. It was probably just his version of moping.

So much had happened in the last few days. He never got around to that breakdown of his, but he did manage to break a few things here, sabotage psychotic Arrancar experiments there. Stress relievers, you know? And in the end, it would all help him when it was time to fuck shit up. And he'd promised himself, when all this was over, and there were no more immediate dangers (because things would always fuck up even without Ed's help), he would find Alphonse again. And then get out of this stupid, broken universe, for good. But he couldn't do that before then, because until the moment of action came, he wouldn't be recognisable as Edward Elric.

His hands would be too dirty for that. Alphonse shouldn't, _couldn't_ know what Ed was going to do, and do willingly, to win. And he had to do this, because otherwise things would happen too soon, and everything would go to hell. So he had to get his hands dirty.

Because Aizen was an idiot.

Ichigo Kurosaki, Human-shinigami with a hollow inside of him (because, according to the stories Ed had heard at least, _he_ was a _brave_ idiot, rather than just an idiot), had displayed something _unexpected_ when he battled Grimmjow and Ulquiorra. And instead of eliminating someone who had unimaginable power and was a clear and immediate threat, what does Aizen do? Manipulate him so he learns to _harness_ said unimaginable power, you say? Surely not. Surely, he wouldn't take such a risk, master tactician that he was. Oh, but Edward Elric forgot. Aizen was _arrogant _and an idiot. A dangerous combination.

Admittedly, it had played out quite well for Edward.

* * *

"Each time Ichigo Kurosaki is faced with an undefeatable foe, the moment he is on the brink of death/failure/defeat, he pushes back with a feral energy that overwhelms whomever he is fighting. He finds the power within himself to continue. But, as he is now, no amount of desperate energy fuelled by adrenalin and determination will be enough to pose any significant challenge for me. I want you to manipulate him into becoming strong enough."

Ed contemplated this, translating the bullshit into what Aizen actually wanted. He tried to keep the disgust from showing in his face. He was asking Ed to torture the boy. Repeatedly. He felt bile rising in his throat and forced it back down with a swallow. No. No, it didn't have to be the way Aizen was implying, he could train the boy, like Teacher had with him and Al all those years ago. Except… he would have to almost kill the boy for any significant- by the Lord and Master's standards- progress to occur, and moreover, he was an arrancar. Any extended time with Kurosaki would be near impossible with all the Shinigami in the area. Why did Aizen have to test him now?

Ed looked at Aizen in silent contemplation before coming to a decision. "I have conditions."

Aizen's right hand men had different reactions to that. The blindly loyal (quite literally in this case) one frowned and shifted, clear disapproval over Ed's disrespect and insubordination written on his face. The _how dare he presume he has a _right was clear in Tousen's body language. Gin's snakelike face, however, was impassive, save for the slight narrowing of his eyes (which made no significant difference to his expression whatsoever), and a tightening of his jaw, as if he were anxious. Strange.

Aizen's only reaction was to raise an eyebrow and smirk, as if he had expected it and was amused at Edward's predictability. The same as Mustang, only evil. Ed resisted the urge to beat the smugness out of him. But that was the thing wasn't it? Ed knew Mustang, and knew that the famous I'm-a-smug-bastard smirk was usually only a mask for his true emotions. And by the flash of anger in Aizen's eyes, Edward was aware just how irritated the man was with having to _negotiate terms,_ rather than having his orders obeyed immediately. Ed hid a smirk of his own and continued in a nonchalant tone.

"I do this completely alone, and in the Human World. You know of my ability to completely supress my entire spiritual pressure, and so have almost complete stealth against all spiritually sensitive creatures," A infinitesimal downward turn of the corners of his mouth was the only indication that yes, Aizen did know of it, but was _not_ aware the Ed knew he knew. Damn. He had to be more careful if he didn't want all his secrets to come out. "If anyone else were to accompany me, with almost all the captains present in the Human World, they would be detected almost immediately, and I would never be able to get close enough to Ichigo for extended periods of time to accomplish my misison."

Aizen nodded, conceding the point, whilst pretending he'd known this already by giving Ed another condescending smirk. Ed refused to clench his fists in irritation. _Patience… the smug bastard will get what's coming to him, and he won't be all smirk and ego anymore…_

* * *

And then he had gone on to cut Grimmjow's arm off. Ed had been pissed, but one look had told him that if he said anything, he'd immediately 'fail' this new test of trust. Who orders the rescue and recuperation of a man that is just going to be maimed and stripped of his Espada title? Fucking sadist. At least Ed now knew which side Grimmjow would be on if given the choice…

So now he had been given _permission_ to go to the Human World, and even better, actually make contact with them. This was the perfect chance to worm his way onto the side of Good. Or at least manipulate them into doing what he wanted.

Ed reflected that being under the consecutive authority of the two most manipulative people across the worlds hadn't been any sort of good influence on his character growth. But damn, it was useful.

And as he looked past the dissipating smoke, and rested his eyes on his New Problem lying naked and heaving coarse, slightly hysterical breaths, Ed was grateful of the influence. Because he could feel the spiritual pressure coming off this new creature, a creature Ed had until previously, had a vague respect for, and he knew he would need all the help he could get. Manipulated or otherwise.

Thank god he was getting out of this asylum in a day. He didn't want to know what kind of damage this new, psychotic Wonderweiss would do in the hours following his 'rebirth'. The creature was pure instinct and raw power now. Like Kurosaki's own psychotic-hollow side. But Ed would help with that.

Yes, Aizen's stupid manipulation games and power plays would be the end of him. If Ed were so inclined, he would have cackled hysterically. But that was the characteristic of an evil mastermind, and he hadn't ever gotten the hang of evil. Besides, it would give him away.

* * *

**Preview**

"So Ichigo. Now that you've finally made it here, are you ready to join the crew?"

"I'm gonna bring your hollow out of you, by force!"

"The only way to stop the hollow inside, is by crushing it down into the very core of your soul"

"Time to go, Ichigo. You'd better not regret this."

"Don't let it devour you"

"As someone who knows hollows and their workings quite intimately, I can offer a unique perspective to what this Ichigo boy is going through. Care for some help?"

They hadn't sensed any spiritual pressure at all.

"Who the hell are you?!"

* * *

**A/N: I would just like to say THANKYOU to all my reviewers, all those who have faved this story, and all who follow it. And I apologise to you all for the massive delay, once again. **

**On another note, I started Uni! Yay for FFnet as a No. #1 source for procrastinating!**

**-IMFU**


	13. Insightful Bastards

**A/N: I'm beginning to think that people who aren't happy with my work deliberately review as Anonymous Guests. I promise I don't bite, and I take things in stride (hopefully). And I'd rather get a clearer picture of what I need to improve on my writing, but I can't do that if I can't PM you. I am a little offended that some think I take too long updating, but I understand it. I don't like slow updaters either, though it is hypocritical. But to put it in perspective for you all, it takes about a year for a talented author to write a novel and have it published. I am in no way comparing myself to talented authors. I'm not nearly so great (I wish). That's my point. Talented authors (at least the well-known ones) also have a lot more spare time to write and research background info on their stories. I don't have the ability to write nearly so much in that time frame, or have nearly so much time and resources to write it in. Bear with me guys.**

**On another note, I'm going to re-read all my previous chapters and fix up some stuff. Don't worry, it's not a re-write. But if you noticed any discrepancies in pervious chapters let me know, because I might miss it. **

**If anyone's confused about the last few lines in my last update (Chapter 12), its' okay. I was trying a new style, and that bits more a preview of this chapter than anything else. I'll work on it.**

**FMA Quote of the Day: ****(Ed is imitating Mustang mocking him) "Struck out on the Philosopher's Stone again, huh? How am I supposed to keep funding this wild goose chase? Money doesn't grow on trees, there, chief! Ed, where'd you run off too? Oh, there you are! I couldn't see you over my paperwork, seeing as how you're so short and all! Ha ha ha!"**

**Bleach Quote of the Day: "****Well can't you see, the resolve to cut you reflected in my sword?" (Urahara Kisuke)**

* * *

**Chapter 13: Insightful Bastards**

* * *

Ichigo had wandered the streets for hours, going over how he would do this in his head as he made futile attempts at sensing spiritual pressure. He didn't like the way these new contenders operated. It didn't feel as if the vizards were giving him a choice, like they knew it was inevitable that eventually, he would come to them. He hated when people thought he was predictable, thought he was easy to manipulate. It always felt like he was being underestimated. Well, they could take their weird vizard membership and shove it. He didn't want anything to do with them, and he was only here to learn how to supress his stupid hollow. Then he would be leaving this place.

Speaking of, Ichigo realised he was walking straight toward where he needed to be. Ha! Take that, Ishida. Who says he can't sense spiritual pressure?

"Ah, Ichigo! You made it!" Shinji waltzed toward him, grin plastered on his face "We figured you'd coming looking for us, so we started throwing our spiritual pressure around so we were easier to find."

Oh, whatever.

"So Ichigo. Now that you've finally made it here, are you ready to join the crew?"

"Hell no!"

And things kind of escalated from there. Looking back on it, Ichigo couldn't recall anything apart from the flurry of hurried movements. The fight was a blur, and only snatches of words came back to him when he thought hard enough.

_"I'm gonna bring your hollow out of you, by force!"_

He couldn't even remember the days in-between, where he had apparently spent the better half of 72 hours on a treadmill. Those hours were a blank slate, thankfully. That was probably due to the concussion, though.

_"The only way to stop the hollow inside, is by crushing it down into the very core of your soul."_

He remembered what happened just before they'd taken him underground, however. He'd been largely unconscious at the time, but he still had heard.

_"Time to go, Ichigo. You'd better not regret this."_

He wondered if any of _them _regretted doing _this._

_"Don't let it devour you."_

* * *

A shadow fell across the entrance in much the same way as Ichigo's had.

"Hello."

Shinji turned to stare at the newcomer. Long, wheat-gold hair, unruly bangs that framed aristocratic features, gold eyes, slight frame, and almost as short as Hiyori. He was dressed in a loose plaid shirt, jeans, and dusty boots. Shinji was strongly reminded of a country-boy, and thought if he'd been chewing a piece of grass and wearing a Stetson, the look would be complete. He supposed it was purposeful; to knock them off guard, make him seem less dangerous. But the boy who was most certainly not a boy stood with a casual grace that belied his fight-ready stance, like a panther coiled to spring. This boy was dangerous. The fact that they hadn't sensed any spiritual pressure at all, ironically only attested to that.

"And just who are you?" Shinji asked loudly, whilst the others paused and tensed. Shinji's normally up-beat reply was still apparent, but sound forced.

The reply was just as nonchalant, but lacked the same level performance. It was as if he were truly at ease. "Someone who knows hollows and their workings quite intimately." He gestures with a long-fingered hand toward the unconscious Ichigo. "Want some help?"

Shinji drew his sword once more. "I would rather you tell us who you are."

The boy looked at his zanpakuto and smirked, "Mine's bigger."

Shinji bared his teeth, "Tell me who you are. What do you want with Ichigo?"

"Nothing, really. I _offered _my services to help train him. You can decline if you want, and I'll be on my way." His hand waved half-heartedly toward the door.

Shinji eyed him suspiciously. "Just like that?"

"Mhmm." The boy sighed theatrically, "Of course, Uruhara will be so very _disappointed_ that this union didn't go as he planned." He made to leave, only to be stopped by a shout.

"Kisuke?!"

The unknown boy didn't turn, merely looked back over his shoulder, the smirk on his face growing ever-wider. "He didn't tell you?" he said through his smile, "Typical."

Shinji was floored. This person was dangerous. There was no doubt there, but was he a threat? To be sent by Kisuke…

"What did he send you here for?"

The boy narrowed his eyes, "Uruhara Kisuke did not _send _me anywhere. I'm not a messenger boy. It was my choice to come here, and offer my services. Uruhara just seemed rather hopeful about this meeting; thought we'd get along or something." He snorted, "As if."

Shinji continued to be baffled by this boy. Why would Kisuke think they'd get along? Shinji had only even considered meeting with Ichigo because he was an untrained Vizard. And it clicked. Though the spiritual pressure, or more specifically, its absence in the boy, was still an anomaly, Shinji lowered his weapon. He cocked his head to the side, contemplating.

"You're a Vizard." It didn't escape Shinji's notice, nor apparently, the newcomer's, that the rest of the warehouse's occupants visibly relaxed their stiff positions into something less aggressive. The boy's smirk never wavered, and he merely inclined his head in the slightest nod. Then suddenly, he grinned and put a finger to his nose before pointing it toward Shinji.

"Kisuke told me you were an insightful bastard, but quite frankly I'm disappointed it took you so long", he clapped his hands together, and for reasons unbeknownst to him, Shinji flinched, though he was able to cover it be tightening his grip on his zanpakuto. Not that the boy noticed, busy as he was being suddenly and inexplicably chatty toward everyone. For instance, at the moment, he was currently pointing almost accusingly toward Lisa "You know, you kind of remind me of this military woman I used to know—"

"Show us" Kensei interrupted loudly, stance still very much aggressive and untrusting.

The boy just grinned, undaunted, "Sure" he said, and reached up as if to grab at his bangs by the roots. Instead, he brought his open palm down across his face, and suddenly the room became awash with spiritual energy. There was so much of it, but it was so different from anything they'd experienced at the same time. It wasn't brutal, or suffocating, it was just… there. Pure and raw, but unobtrusive.

Like it was waiting. Or watching. Hiyori swallowed and narrowed her eyes, "Who are you?"

"Ed."

Such a simple name; so very misleading.

* * *

Hiyori glared at Ed. Ed glared back, with interest. At some point it had clearly devolved into a pissing contest.

Shinji had been watching for the past five minutes, and was now thoroughly bored.

"Hiyori—"

"I don't trust him."

Ed's scowl grew more apparent. Shinji was impressed. "You didn't trust Kisuke when you first met."

"Yeah, but I knew he wasn't evil. Thought he'd just be a shit leader."

"_Yeah, _and you misjudged him didn't you?"

"Fuck no! I was right on the money with that one! Man can't lead a horse to water."

Shinji sighed exasperatedly, "Look, Kisuke trusts the guy. And he never sends people to us, because he knows he'll get a fist in the face for his troubles. But he sent… _Ed, _anyway, so it's got to be important."

Hiyori gave a doubtful snort. Ed gave an amused one. They looked at each other curiously, for once without malice. Shinji was suddenly assaulted by the thought of them joining forces. It went hand-in-hand with his inexplicably abrupt headache.

After a moment more of trading silent threats with their eyes, they both shrugged. Simultaneously.

"Fine," Hiyori said, then stipulated, "But I'm not letting him go into that pen alone."

Ed didn't seem particularly troubled by that, merely raised an eyebrow in a 'huh' kind of way.

"And Kisuke's still getting that punch in the face!"

Both blond menaces grinned, shark-like, and Shinji had to fight the urge to run and hide.

_R.I.P., Ichigo._

* * *

As Ed sidestepped a psychotic Ichigo with ease, it was once again apparent to Hirako Shinji that this boy- man- was something else entirely. Upon Hiyori's begrudging acceptance of Ed's offer to help train Ichigo, the two had almost immediately got into the fight. But when Hiyori had begun to tell Ed about the ten minute restriction per fighter, Shinji had subtly shaken his head. At the time she had smirked. It had been intended as a test, to see exactly how long Ed would last before breaking. Hiyori wasn't smirking now.

Twenty-five minutes.

And not a drop of sweat.

Ichigo hadn't even gotten in a _lucky_ shot as of yet, let alone anything substantially damaging.

Ed dodged under Ichigo's outstretched arm, and in that same moment everyone in the room felt a substantial drop in the spiritual density in the room. Imperceptible hairline cracks had all coalesced to rupture the integrity of the mask at once, and the thing was suddenly and completely shattered. And in that same moment, several things happened at once. Everyone, save Hachigen- who couldn't risk breaking concentration- dropped what they were doing and began sprinting toward the fight. Of course, the shield stopped them from any rescue attempt almost immediately, and they had forgotten that vital bit of information.

But Ed wasn't alone.

Hiyori had sprung into action, flipping her mask over her face with a wave of her hand and reaching the fighting pair within three seconds.

They all needn't have bothered.

Just as Hiyori brought her sword around in a swing that would have decapitated lesser men (but maybe given Ichigo a minor irritation), Ed twisted out of his dive, grabbing the arm Ichigo had been bringing down upon his head and planting his feet on the ground so his back was facing the boy-turned-hollow. One more twist and Ichigo had been flipped onto his back five feet away.

The whole episode was over in less than five seconds.

Not to be deterred, and now rather angry- which translated to psychotically enraged for the rest of society- the creature borne of Ichigo was already once again on his feet and flinging himself at them with a snarl.

Looking suddenly exhausted, with sweat pouring down his face, Ed nodded to Hiyori tiredly, "I'll let you get this one", he said, and then began staggering toward the barrier.

Once safe outside, Ed then proceeded to collapse in a heap.

Shinji gave him a mildly curiously, mildly suspicious, and wholly unconcerned look, "You alright? That transitioned seemed rather sudden."

Ed waved him away, knowing full well the vizard didn't give a damn about his health, and was only fishing for information. "I'm fine, just fatigue."

"You didn't seem at all fatigued until that moment." Shinji prodded.

Ed levelled him a look, and then shrugged, saying nothing. Shinji wouldn't get anything else out of him. He felt like saying so, with the added "So, there." For entertainment, but decided against it. It seemed a bit petty and immature.

Look at him, growing up.

It was disgusting.

* * *

It takes sixty-eight minutes, forty-nine seconds for Ichigo to beat his inner hollow into submission.

During that time, he demonstrates high-speed regeneration, something Ed is only aware of Ulquiorra obtaining. Interesting, but ultimately irrelevant, particularly seeing as none of the vizards deem it necessary to let Ichigo himself know. Secretive bastards.

Now, with Ichigo in full control of his faculties, the actual training begins.

Ed supresses a shudder and strikes the first blow.

* * *

Ichigo Kurosaki stumbled and lifted his sword in a vain attempt to block the next blow. He fell to one knee, panting, and glared at his attacker. A mask glared back at him, the face behind it completely obscured from chin to hairline, barring the eyes. It was all angles, sharp where the cheekbones would be, the chin, brow, jaw. For not the first time since meeting his 'training partner', Ichigo wished those eyes were also obscured, not so he could finally get an edge over the guy, though that would no doubt be useful, but for the fact that the mirth in those eyes was downright irritating. He swore he could hear the laughter in his voice every time he was ordered to 'get up, suck it up, do it again'.

It wasn't the first time he'd had the odds tipped in his enemy's favour- in fact, he was almost always disadvantaged in a fight- but this was the first time the progress he underwent hadn't helped him. Each time he'd learnt something new, he'd managed to win: speaking with his zanpakuto had allowed him to survive Kenpachi, attaining Getsuga Tensho and Bankai had led to Byakuya's defeat. But here and now, with his neew found control over his vizard powers, there was no give at all. When Ichigo got a hit in, this stranger just laughed a strange little laugh. It was… pitying, mocking; as if he knew exactly what Ichigo was about to do, but let him do it anyway. Like letting a kid win a game so they wouldn't feel bad. It happened every time he made a successful hit and Ichigo had never wanted to scream so much in his life, stupidity of father's aside.

Who the hell was this guy?

And more importantly: was he a sadist?

* * *

"Get up." Ed said, voice ice cold, and trying in vain not to feel guilty as Ichigo glared and panted and struggled to stand.

He knew he was torturing the boy; this wasn't a fight. This was attrition; a slow wear-down of Ichigo's energy. It was worse than his training with Izumi. What was surviving alone, as a child, on a deserted island for a month compared to… actually this wasn't that bad, superficially speaking. And yet, Izumi had trained them in a way that would bring out the best in them, nurture their understanding of the world. Make them wise; not that they had really listened in the end. But this thing with Ichigo- it was the honing of a tool, the sharpening of a sword. And more horrifying, he didn't seem to mind. None of them did, just looked on with expressions ranging from vague approval and curiosity to indifference. None of them actually cared about Ichigo Kurosaki, the school boy who had lost his mother to a hollow and was just trying to protect his friends. They looked at him like a weapon. And Ichigo knew no different.

And Ed was fostering those ideas, reinforcing them with each snide comment, because this was what he had to do to get what he wanted. He had to ingratiate himself with these people, who were in some ways, worse than hollows. Hollows had base instincts typical of predators; kill or be killed (and enjoy doing it), survival of the fittest, strongest, smartest. Shinigami promoted their image as the antithesis of that; they were protectors and saviours. But their backward, bloody ways proved differently. They hid their ruthlessness, their bloodlust behind the masks of guardians, _gods, _and justified their actions with rules and laws saying that it was right, just, _for the greater good._

Shinigami were super-powered dead spirits who called themselves gods, and played with the lives of others. At least Hollow were straight-forward.

Ed didn't know who he was disgusted with more; the Shinigami or himself, for pandering to their views.

He hoped and prayed to nothing and everything that this would all be worth it.

* * *

**A/N: I have no excuse for my belated updates. It's just the way I write: as haphazardly and unpredictably as a drunken baby giraffe. This author does not condone feeding alcohol to baby giraffes, adult giraffes and animals in general. It's not pretty. **

**-IMFU**


	14. The Cliffy

**A/N: **

**Me + Updating = Miracle.**

**Two more and I'm a saint.**

**The hardest part about writing: you have a plot in your head that's solid and understandable, but then your fingers just type words upon words that build up and overflow in a completely new direction. Channelling ideas is hard. Like an egg & spoon race. **

**I haven't had coffee in 18 days, 4 hours. **

**It's slowly killing me.**

**And my writer's brain.**

**Hopefully enough remains to make this chapter worthwhile. **

**WARNING: If at any time this chapter mentions banana zombies, I apologise. As aforementioned, I am extremely under-caffeinated. I am not responsible for what may occur.**

**Good day!**

**FMA Quote of the Day: **

**Alphonse Elric: You've changed, Brother! You've gotten taller!  
Edward Elric: [indignant] WHAT'D YOU THINK,THAT I'D STILL BE A RUNT AT EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD?**

**Bleach Quote of the Day: "You know why big brothers are born first? To protect the little ones who come after them." (Kurosaki Ichigo) **

* * *

**The Cliffy**

* * *

In which there is minor angst, minor fluff, and minor breakage of the fourth wall, because I can.

* * *

"Fuu… Kurosaki-san didn't come to school again today…"

Alphonse gave his friend a concerned look, "I thought you said he was probably off training someplace secret? His spiritual pressure seems fine…" He trailed off with a frown, noticing her plaintive expression, "… what's wrong?"

Inoue fidgeted, and scuffed her toed against the asphalt, "it's just… even Kuchiki-san is worried, now, and Kurosaki-kun never told her where he went either, so now _I'm _worried, and everyone else is off-school as well, and shouldn't _I _be doing _something?_"

"Nope."

Inoue looked put-out, but Alphonse merely smiled, "Don't rush into this. It's what starts all the trouble in the first place." He said, thinking of how differently their encounter with Dante could have been had they just waited, just cooperated with Colonel Mustang more, "Just keep doing what you're doing. Maybe get some training in with Rukia. And if you're worried about Ichigo… go find him."

"I couldn't!" Inoue cried, aghast.

"Of course you can!" Alphonse replied just as emphatically. "Ichigo wouldn't turn you away. You're his…_friend." _He put enough suggestion into the tone of his voice that it was hard to miss what he really meant.

Al grinned at Inoue's blush and stuttering denials, but inwardly he sighed. He just couldn't understand how she was so blinded by her insecurities that she couldn't see what was in front of her. Then again, he'd dealt with Ed, and she wasn't nearly as obtuse about her feelings as he.

They passed a neighbour of Inoue's, one who, for the life of him, Alphonse couldn't remember the name of. Inoue and the woman struck up some casual conversation, and Alphonse kept silent, looking politely interested, until the discussion turned to more engaging issues.

"Orihime, dear, about those other two staying at your place…"

* * *

The hum sounded electrical, but Inoue and Al were both aware of a different source. The room was awash with spiritual energy, but not from anything living, despite its seemingly organic nature. Thick, knotted roots ran across the ground. At least that's what they were at first glance. On closer inspection, and to their growing horror, the pulsing tubes were made of flesh. Like so many giant umbilical cords, they twisted about each other, pumping spiritual energy into the creature that took up most of the back wall of Inoue's living room.

"Uwahh…" Inoue stared at the creature, disturbed, before rounding on Toshiro, "That's so not cool! What is this thing Toshiro-kun!?"

To Alphonse, who had been watching a lot of television- moving photos with sound! Mr Hughes would have been over the moon- in his spare time, the creature on the far wall that was convulsing around the screen in its stomach looked like the bastard child of Quasimodo and a Teletubby. But apparently it was something else entirely, because it had three faces running along the top of its screen. Three faces that seemed to be peering at him speculatively, like a chef at the butcher's. Oh joy.

But then he was saved from imagining his gruesome death by mutated, hairy-legged TV's as the screen flickered to life. And from what he could gather by the instinctive straightening of postures by everyone present- save him because he had no idea what was going on- the scarred, white-haired old man on the screen was someone important. He definitely exuded power and authority when he spoke.

His eyebrows were amazing.

"Captain-Commander…" Inoue greeted the old man in surprise. The Captain-Commander ignored her summarily.

"You've finished the job quickly. Just what I've come to expect from you, Captain Hitsuguya." Toshiro acknowledge the complement with a slow blink, "But there is only one reason for having you so urgently set up this line." Though the pause seemed to be for dramatic effect, Alphonse saw a slight flicker in those eyes, and had the sudden suspicion that this Captain-Commander was lying, and that it was to do with him. "Aizen Sousuke's true objective… has been made clear."

And cue audible gasps.

Inoue shifted uncomfortably, and made to leave the room, when Alphonse stopped her with a hand at her elbow. He leaned toward her ear and said quietly, "If they hadn't wanted us to know about this, they would have moved this to a more secure location, or told us to leave."

"But-"

"Indeed." The C.C. cut her off, "stay, and listen. This concerns you humans as well." another glance toward Alphonse.

Inoue still looked uncomfortable, still looked uncertain, but she stayed, with an almost inaudible, "Yes, sir."

The Captain-Commander began talking.

"In the month since Aizen has vanished, we've systematically investigated his quarters, Squad Five, and the Central 46's Underground Building, where he hid out after his supposed death. We are also doing a thorough search of the Great Spirit Library's Circuits, though much of it is restricted to very limited, high-ranking individuals, and even fewer know the circuit's inner-workings all that well."

"Captain Ukitake, who is head of this particular investigation, recently discovered Aizen's research data logs. Aside from regular searches on the Hougyoku, Aizen made one more, completely unrelated search, two days before his disappearance."

Toshiro leant forward, "And the subject?"

"The Royal Key."

Both Shinigami in the room paled considerably.

"What's the Royal Key?" Inoue asked in a voice that said she was confused as to how this related to her at all. Alphonse silently agreed.

As solemn as Alphonse had ever seen her, Matsumoto replied. "It's exactly what it sounds like. A key to the royal house. Even Soul Society has a Royal Family. We say 'King', but since he leaves the matters of Soul Society to the Central 46, we don't feel his presence. Neither the Captain or I have seen him in person."

"Indeed." The C.C. said again, and Alphonse thought it might be his favourite word, "We call him the Spirit King, and although he is a figurehead in Soul Society, his existence is absolute. The Royal Palace is located in a space further removed from Soul Society, and is protected by the Royal Guard. The Royal Key opens up the space that leads to the Royal Palace."

Inoue looked horrified, "That means that Aizen is going to—"

"Kill the King." The C.C replied, "But that is not where the problem lies."

_No of course not, _Alphonse thought, _regicide, what was that? Psychopathic immortal beings set on murdering the King of the Dead? Not an issue._

But apparently he was slow, because Hitsuguya caught on to what the C.C was not saying, "The information Aizen accessed was not about the location of the key…"

"Indeed. The information he gained was a reference from the era that the Royal Key was made. It pertains to the method of tis creation."

Matsumoto spoke up, clearly troubled, "So the problem lies in the method?"

"No." Alphonse was beginning to dislike the round-a-bout way the C.C. revealed vital information to them. "The problem is in the materials. In order to create a Royal Key, you need one hundred thousand human souls, and a plot of spiritually saturated ground about six miles in diameter."

"One-hundred thousand…", Inoue looked sick. Alphonse didn't blame her. But he had a question.

"Where will Aizen target?" the others seemed surprised that he was there, not having spoken since being told to stay. But this was an important question, and judging by the slightly more grave expression on the C.C. face, Alphonse had the sinking feeling that he knew the answer.

"Karakura Town."

* * *

Four months.

They had four months before everything coalesced into one big blood bath, and the fate of Karakura town was decided. Four months to secure the lives of 100,000 people with just a handful of humans and Shinigami Captains, whilst simultaneously defending against a horde of insane, blood-lusting arrancar who wanted to kill them and stopping Aizen's attempts at regicide and world domination. Oh, and find Ed, who may or may not be an undead arrancar following Aizen's orders.

Yeah.

No pressure.

Almost everyone was panicking.

Alphonse knew the signs. When soldiers panicked, but had nothing to react to, they trained. Hawkeye would clean all her guns, go down to the firing range, and terrify new recruits. Mustang would pick a fight with Edward, and the both of them would end up clearing the rubble of the building they had levelled. Now in this world, where there weren't soldiers, so much as sword-wielding spiritual beings and super-powered teenagers, the panicking was slightly different.

Matsumoto was off, systematically informing every other Shinigami present of the news, and organising the arrival of the rest of the Captains.

Kisuke had disappeared a few days ago, as if he had already known everything, and was taking time off to plot. His uncannily accurate knowledge of things was creepy at best. But now he was back, looking only mildly surprised at the new information, and going about his business as if the world wasn't about to end in four months. Chad had gone to Kisuke to train, and neither Alphonse nor Inoue had seen him for weeks. Abarai Renji was with him.

Hituguya was… meditating. It had been concerning, seeing him exit the room last, fists clenched, but still unable to hide the slight tremble of his hands. Whether it was rage or fear, Alphonse didn't know, but the captain had clearly been thoroughly shaken. But now he seemed to have gotten a little more control, and was meditating. From what he could gather from the vague explanations he had garnered, it was a way to fully realise the strength of his spirit sword. Alphonse thought to leave that information aside, to be poked and prodded with a scientific mind for another time.

Right now, he was following Inoue to where Ichigo was. Strictly speaking, only Inoue herself had been _ordered_ to give Ichigo the new information, but, strictly speaking, Alphonse wasn't under the C.C.'s jurisdiction, or even this world's jurisdiction, so he could do as he pleased. And he wanted to know that Ichigo was alright with his own two eyes. The past six months or so had been the longest he had stayed in one place since living with Teacher, and he was grateful for Ichigo and Inoue's easy acceptance of him, and their continued generosity. He wasn't about to pass that up because some high ranking official didn't want him meddling. They were his friends.

He wondered if Ed had made any friends, wherever he was. Thinking of what he'd been told about arrancar, Al though Ed would get along quite well with them. Then again, the whole of Hueco Mundo could be being levelled right now if someone ever mentioned his height. That would make things easier.

They found the place. He thought. What other reason would Inoue have for stopping suddenly and staring at the empty space in front of her?

"Er… Inoue?"

"This is the place."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." She breathed, staring at the blank space ahead of her in awe. "It's like, a-a change in perception. There's a massive barrier around it all, and to every living thing outside it, the warehouse doesn't exist."

"So it just deletes itself out your vision? Like invisibility?"

"No. Nothing like that. It stops you from noticing it, more like. If you concentrate hard enough, you'll realise something is missing, something tugging in the back of your mind, but you won't necessarily see it, not unless you know what you're looking for."

And Alphonse could suddenly see it now, too. The image wasn't remarkable in itself. A warehouse, as non-descript and typical a warehouse as could be. But the act of seeing it was all the more remarkable to Alphonse, maybe even more so than Inoue, simply because it _hadn't _been there before. He looked at Inoue.

"You knew you were looking for a warehouse?"

Inoue blushed and replied quietly, "I knew I was looking for Ichigo…"

Alphonse smiled, "Is that why you could see it?"

"I guess… That and…" Her brow furrowed in thought and she raised a hand to the now-visible-to-Alphonse barrier, "…this barrier is so similar to my power."

Alphonse raised an eyebrow, "It is?"

She nodded, "Yeah. My power blocks physical attacks completely, but its basic compared to this. This… it blocks everything. Even light."

Alphonse digested that for a few minutes. There was clearly something more complex going on here than simply a blanket rejection of everything outside the barrier's vicinity, but he didn't have a perfect grasp on this whole 'spiritual pressure' business. Could you quantify it? And more to the matter at hand…

"Could you get through it?"

Inoue looked up determinedly, despite the rising flush on her cheeks, "Ichigo's in there. I can do this."

And she could.

Alphonse couldn't. Not even with a detailed explanation of Inoue's powers did he understand. And so he did the only thing he really knew.

He clapped.

* * *

"What the hell are you doing, _Ed?!_ He's never going to learn anything if you pull your punches! Get in there!"

"Stop being a _goddamn_ backseat driver, you obnoxious dwarf, I know what I'm doing!"

"Hey, who are you calling dwarf?!"

The rest of the Vizard crew were gathered a few feet away from the growing brawl. Rose looked on in idle curiosity.

"They're getting on surprisingly well." He commented. Lisa, who was sitting next to him, looked up, said nothing, and turned the page of her manga book.

"Hmm…" Love said, noncommittally, "Our esteemed leader doesn't seem to approve."

They both glance over at Shinji, who was not two feet away, glaring at the bickering pair like they'd kicked his puppy. And then ran over it. Rose could make out a few muttered words, which sounded suspiciously like '_why_ did there have to be two of them?' and another bit that sounded like a human prayer. Rose raised an eyebrow.

"I think he's broken."

Love snorted, "'bout time. Hey, Kensei! How's our pupil going?"

Kensei sighed, "14 seconds has been the longest he's held the transformation for. Pathetic."

Mashiro looked on in interest, "Why's he need to train?"

Kensei looked at her curiously, "To increase his stamina, so he can fight in hollow-form longer. We all did it."

"I didn't." Mashiro looked at him with wide eyes. "I lasted fifteen hours straight up."

"Bullshit, you—", he was cut off by the rather audible intake of breath by his shoulder. He turned around, and tensed immediately as he took in Hachigen's suddenly pale faced demeanour.

"What's wrong?" The serious atmosphere must have dragged Shinji out of his crazed ravings, and he looked at Hachigen with clear, concerned eyes.

"Someone's slipped past my barrier. There are two of them, heading straight toward us. How…?"

Shinji straightened, and turned toward the base of the steps, "We'll worry about that later. Right now we need to be prepared."

They geared up for a fight, and almost immediately saw the intruders. What they were not ready for was two teenage humans in uniform, shifting uncomfortably near the top of the stairs. The male, with long blonde hair, reached up to rub the back of his neck in an awkward gesture.

"Err… is this a bad time…?"

"We were just—"

"Inoue?" Kurosaki, looking dead on his feet, was staring at Inoue with a surprised look on his face. Everyone immediately relaxed.

"You know each other?"

"Uhh, yeah…" Ichigo squinted, "Alphonse, are you okay?"

Alphonse didn't answer. Instead, his expression melted from one of complete shock into a blank slate. Instead, he set his jaw, stormed down the remaining steps with a do-not-get-in-my-way kind of vibe, and slugged Ed in his stunned face.

"You bastard! You are the worst-best-big-brother in creation!" Al picked Ed up from where he _fell_ (no one there had even seen him take a hit, let alone _fall_ from one), grabbed the front of his shirt, and punched him again, before dropping him like a bag of bricks. Ed wiped a hand across his face and spat blood from his split lip.

"I guess I deserve that." He grinned ruefully, and eyed Al up and down, "but I don't regret a bit of it."

Alphonse saw red, "SIX MONTHS! Six months I waited for you! I looked everywhere in this world. And apparently you're holed up in some other dimension with a bunch of maniacs, and then you pretend like you don't see me, and I don't know what to think and—"

"Al!"

"What!" He was breathing heavily, fists clenched, like he wanted to punch Ed again. Shinji wouldn't have minded in the slightest.

Ed smiled, a fiercely happy, joyous smile that made his eyes light up and made him look like the boy he should have been. Sixteen, happy, carefree. And then he hugged Alphonse, tightly, and with a protective edge that was borderline possessive.

"I missed you." And suddenly he had an armful of clinging, sobbing Alphonse. He breathed in Al's scent, and maybe a few tears of his own leaked out and trickled awau, but in that moment, everything was right with the world. He could ignore the annoyingly loud whispers of "'Brother'?!", and his own frantic questions over _what happens now_ if he could just hold onto this moment.

And then Hiyori spoke up.

"Would you two stop groping each other for a second, and tell us WHAT THE FUCK'S GOING ON?"

_Ah, good ole Hiyori _Shinji thought_ Got a nice set of lungs on her._

Ed _glared_.

"That's none of your business you voyeuristic perverts! And this is called a hug! It's brotherly shit. So, stop ogling us and fuck off!" Ed stood up in huff, hauling Al along by the arm behind him as he headed toward the door, "Now if you don't mind, I'd like some alone time with my brother."

And then they were gone, leaving nine gaping mouths in their wake.

"W-what the hell just happened?"

"A cliff-hanger." Lisa supplied, sitting down and taking up her manga once again.

"A what?"

"A cliff-hanger: a plot device where a character is placed in a dire situation, or confronted with a shocking turn of events. Now we'll have to wait until they're both back to get our answers."

Hiyori huffed, "Well, that's just bullshit."

Inoue, who for once, actually knew more than the rest of them room, only smiled.

* * *

**A/N: ****So, what do you think? Miracle worthy? Okay, maybe not. And I'm sorry about the ending. I just couldn't help myself!**

**Review Please.**

**-IMFU.**


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